


Isolation on Tracy Island

by WillowDragonCat



Category: Thunderbirds, thunderbirds are go
Genre: Family Bonding, Family Feels, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:00:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 101
Words: 120,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23492077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillowDragonCat/pseuds/WillowDragonCat
Summary: Over on the Gerry Anderson Podcast Facebook page I started a random series of posts for fun, in an attempt to make people laugh. It worked. Thought I'd share here too. Here's Selene's diary of isolation on Tracy Island.
Relationships: John Tracy/ Selene Tempest, John Tracy/Original Characters
Comments: 66
Kudos: 54





	1. Chapter 1

Day one of isolation on Tracy Island: Brains forced us all through a decontamination shower, Grandma made us bathe in dettol and Alan finally smells nice. From now on all rescues will be performed in full protective, radiation proof uniforms and helmets with breathing apparatus used. John is just glad he hasn't been on earth long enough to be scrubbed.

Now we are free to move around and supplies are still plentiful (Grandma always stocks up 6 months in advance anyway). Although she has fallen foul to the great toilet roll hoarding and has put an extra code lock in the store room, growling like a dragon when anyone suggests that she might be going a little too far. Again, John is glad he has his own supplies (I'm beginning to think that Space Hubby is actually the most sensible person in the world).

Jeff has yet to lay down the law over what he's calling "This whole funny business" but it's only a matter of time... I shall check in with you all tomorrow, until then,keep safe and keep sane, we do not want to have to come out and rescue you from something stupid, we will just laugh.


	2. Day Two

Day Two of isolation on Tracy Island and apparently I am a bad influence. According to Grandma, just because everyone is saying that this is second Christmas doesn't mean I can get up and straight away start eating chocolate, especially if that involves sitting on the couch with Gordon and Alan and a family sized bag of minstrels. Personally I think she wanted them for herself.

We all scrambled and started retrieving her mothers day gifts from various places hidden around the villa (now we know why V's piano had that one bum note) and now she's forgiven us.

She would like us to remind you all that just because we are on lock down doesn't mean that we should forget how special our Mums are, especially those of young children who are trying to stay sane. 

We appreciate you, and we love you all, you are amazing.

Happy Mothers day from Tracy Island.


	3. Day Three

Day three of isolation on Tracy Island and Jeff is fed up with us all wearing Pyjamas.

I'm going blind from the loud patterns and I just watched Scott slide off a leather chair because his are silk.

John gave me that look that says "see, mines not looking so bad now, is it?" 

Send wine!


	4. Day Four

Day Four of isolation on Tracy Island... And apparently I am the only one in the house capable of making a sandwich.

The boys have regressed from capable men to idiots that cannot fend for themselves and have resorted to scavenging and thievery.

The second you put anything food related down and take your eyes off it you will never see it again. Virgil stole my coffee, Alan just nabbed my toast right off my plate and I'm pretty sure that it was Scott who ate my pringles.

I am now suspecting everyone of some dastardly underhand scheming and have been issuing warning glares, but to no avail.

Send pizza!


	5. Day Five

Day Five of Isolation on Tracy Island.

Scott and Virgil decided that this was the perfect time to teach me to play snooker... And they won't do that again in a hurry. I'm very sure Gordon didn't need that eye, he has two, wanting to keep both is just greedy.

John did absolutely nothing to help apart from muttering something along the lines of me being dangerous with balls, I wasn't really listening.

Alan used the distraction to steal the entire bowl of peanuts.

Send an eye patch!


	6. Day 6

Day 6 of isolation on Tracy Island and Jeff has offered to relieve John in the space station. I'm not sure who was more shocked, John at the thought of being home with us crazy bunch or Jeff that he hadn't thought of it before.

Alan and Gordon invented something they named "dodge swim" and it involves everyone standing around the pool and firing balls and other missiles at whomever is trying to swim a length of the pool.

Currently floating abandoned in the pool we have :

-6 Tennis balls  
-2 Hairbrushes  
-a whisk  
-a beach towel that Virgil used to whip Scott with  
\- an inflatable palm tree  
\- a model of Thunderbird Four  
\- my watering can  
-13 clothes pegs  
-3 beach balls  
-one volleyball  
-two basket balls  
-a picnic basket  
-a mixing bowl  
\- a wooden spoon  
\- 2 apples  
-1 banana  
\- 1 watermelon lounging at the bottom  
\- a pool cleaning pole  
-Scott's swimming trunks  
-Gordon

Send hairdryers!


	7. Day 7

Day 7 of isolation on Tracy Island and the boys have eaten all of my cookies already. They were pretty good about it, there was only one argument when John ate one of the TB3's and Alan yelled, but in space hubby's defence, there was only one 5 that made it out of the oven and I ate that one as it was squashed, missing antenna and looked more like a trodden on spider and I didn't think he'd want it. In retaliation Alan ate the last bagel in the cupboard... Now I have to try to figure out how to bake bagels... Pray for me.

Grandma tried to help with the cookie baking, but her input was to turn the oven temperature to maximum, to drop a bag of flour on the floor and to chase Scott with the rolling pin when he tried to sneak one before they were cooled. She is also taking full credit for the ones that came out OK. I'm not brave enough to argue with her and I'm just letting her have the glory.

I found out today that Jeff has a secret whisky stash that he keeps hidden behind some books in the lounge, apparently this stash has gained an almost mythical status and everyone has been looking for it for days, I found it by accident because I walked in when Jeff was replacing "Rocket Science for Dummies" on the shelf. I have been sworn to secrecy... Oops. You won't tell anyone will you?

For once, Gordon is being the sensible one, which honestly has me a little worried, I'm pretty sure he's plotting something. Virgil is the best boy and helping me clean up the kitchen.

Send bagels!


	8. Day 8

Day 8 of isolation on Tracy Island 

Being on lockdown gives you many opportunities, one of them being the time to binge watch and that you can introduce Americans to the joys of British TV. Which I am now doing. 

This led to a rather embarrassing incident for Gordon and a rather traumatic one for Virgil. 

Picture the scene…Virgil who is innocently minding his own business, walks into the bathroom and bursts in on Gordon. Ordinarily this wouldn't be too traumatic, when you have that many people in a house the odd walk in happens, mostly they are adults about it and just apologise and back out. But not this time. 

Because Gordon was in a bath overflowing with bubbles, his tablet balanced on the side watching Netflix. He had one of Grandma's fancy floating candle bowls -also filled with bubbles- in one hand and his razor in the other, which he was using to vigorously stir his mixture while doing a very bad impression of Paul Hollywood. 

Gordon was so engrossed in his monologue of how to mix the perfect buttercream that he had failed to notice his brother. Virgil had two choices, back out quietly and leave him to his play, or he could take out his phone and record it for prosperity. 

We heard maniacal laughter coming from down the hall, an enraged bellow, followed by a splashing noise, loud cursing that is too rude to repeat here, more splashing then the sound of running feet. 

Virgil raced past us, tossed his phone at Scott, who like a true champion big brother, asked no questions, just caught the phone and took off running. A soaking wet, partially wrapped in a towel, Gordon slid into the lounge, skidded on the floor and fell face first into the seating area. 

Jeff ignored it all with the skill only a parent of five can master, not getting involved with the ruckus, while we screamed with laughter or just at the sight of someone's naked behind. 

And that's the story of how Gordon needs a new tablet (it fell in the bath), and why he is no longer talking to Virgil or Scott. It's actually kinda peaceful for once, I might go for a walk around the island with John. 

Send a new tablet!


	9. Day 9

Day 9 of isolation on Tracy Island. 

We've had a quiet day today, the reality of the fact that we're all stuck here except for emergencies is finally hitting home. The authorities trust us in the fact that they know we'll do everything we can to ensure that proper measures are taken to prevent the spread of this virus, but many politely requested that we don't respond to calls in their country. 

This has hit the boys and Jeff very hard, they aren't used to being sidelined or unable to respond to people that are in need of help. The only positive seems to be that with everyone isolated in their houses it means that there are less people getting into trouble, which has reduced our calls to almost nothing so there are less to turn down. 

Everyone has kinda drifted off into their own hobbies, Jeff has paperwork to catch up on, Alan is online playing a game, Gordon is binge watching his favourite show, John's taken the elevator back up to the office for a few hours, Virgil has wandered off with his sketch pad and that's left me with Scott, who either took pity on me or was just so fed up with me whining that I was bored and unsupervised. 

That boy has way too much faith in my ability to listen and follow instructions. He decided in his infinite wisdom that he would enlist my help in doing some maintenance on One. The poor love. 

We have learnt that I do not know the difference between lineman's pliers and needle nose pliers, a bradawl and a screwdriver, a wrench and a spanner, a Phillips and a flat head or an Allen key and a hex key (apparently no difference, and fetching Alan's keys didn't help at all but did give Scott a good laugh). 

We also learnt that I am not as strong as I look, being tall does not equate to upper body strength, as Scott's foot will tell you if you care to converse with a foot. Honestly, we're all going a little mad now and talking to a foot isn't the worst that could happen. 

Send steel toed boots!


	10. Day 10

Day 10 of isolation on Tracy Island. 

Do you ever feel like you're living in a TV show? That's me right now and I feel like I woke up in Scooby Doo. 

Allow me to explain. It started out innocently enough, we were all in the kitchen eating breakfast, I'd been drafted to make everyone bacon sandwiches and everything was surprisingly calm, when we heard a yelp and then a crash. 

We all looked over and there was Brains, splattered on the floor, MAX standing over him looking… Well I can't say concerned, more like guilty. 

"You tripped me!" Brains accused. 

"I told you I wasn't clumsy," John announced as he shoved a large spoonful of cereal into his mouth. 

"My glasses! I c-cant find my g-glasses."

We all watched as Brains crawled around on his hands and knees, patting the floor, his face screwed up in concentration. 

"You c-could help!" 

We all jumped to attention and the great glasses search began. We looked everywhere, under the table, in the hall, under Alan because that boy sits on everything, all crawling around like idiots, bumping into each other and trying to follow Brains' directions. But they had gone. Completely vanished. 

"MAX, help me up," a dejected Brains called. 

MAX moved forward and we heard a sickening crunch. It was Gordon that picked up the broken glasses and held them out to Brains, cupped gently in his hands. 

Brains looked like a kicked puppy as he held them up by one arm and a lense fell out. 

Brains is now wearing an old pair, small red frames which he's peering through like he's looking down a tunnel. 

That was when the family photos came out. I've learnt that John had glasses as a teen before he had his eyes lasered, Scott had a chubby phase, Virgil had very unfortunate hair that resembled a flock of seagulls, Gordon once had a liking for very wide pants and Alan had braces. So stinkin' cute!

Send contact lenses!


	11. Day 11

Day Eleven of isolation on Tracy Island...

Alan fell asleep on the couch. That's not that unusual, he does it all the time, and he's surprisingly hard to wake up, that boy can sleep through anything. 

We were nice at first, all squishing on the remaining couches and chairs and talking quietly so as not to disturb him, but then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Scott pick up a coaster off the coffee table. He looked at it thoughtfully for a moment and then, with great concentration, he balanced it gently on Alan's forehead. 

Gordon, catching on to the potential for mischief, crossed over to the book shelf and picked up a pretty seashell, which he tucked in between Alan's ear and the couch. 

Scott nodded to Virgil, who picked up the metaphorical batton and ran with it, draining his coffee cup and carefully, slowly, precisely, placing the cup dead center on Scott's coaster. 

You may be wondering what John and I were doing during all this, I was watching, because I wanted no part of this if Alan woke up, I still want to be his favourite. John was attempting to tuck a small chunk of meteorite into Alan's pocket. 

They all looked at me expectantly and I just couldn't let them down. I stood up and left the room, coming back a few minutes later with Alan's bedroom rug. I tossed one end to John and with perfect coordination, we covered him over with the rug, from neck to toe.

"Genius," they praised and took off to Alan's room, coming back with a number of items. 

Scott tucked three computer games in with him under the blanket, Virgil went one further and placed Alan's VR headset on top of his head, careful not to disturb the mug and coaster already in residence. John, not to be outdone had selected Alan's almost dead pot plant and placed it between his feet. Gordon came in with a coat hanger and hung it carefully off Alan's ear like an earring. 

Honestly I'm surprised that the muffled sniggering, choked laughter and my spontaneous giggles didn't wake him up, but as I said earlier, Alan can sleep through anything. 

"What are you doing?" Jeff asked from behind us, his dad-dar in perfect working order, apparently having tingled a warning, picking up the potential for wrong doing all the way from his office. 

We all jumped guiltily and immediately bunched together to hide the couch. Jeff wasn't fooled. Sighing in defeat we parted to display our masterpiece. 

With Jeff it's often a toss up as to how he will react, will he laugh, or will he blow his top? Jeff strode slowly forward, examining the rug with the pile of items in top and Alan's feet sticking out the bottom. 

"Amateurs," he declared. We watched in stunned silence as Jeff carried a dining chair over, nodded to Virgil to lift Alan's legs and balanced the chair, over the almost dead pot plant, on the couch while Virgil lowered Alan's feet onto the seat. 

Jeff took a well deserved bow and we applauded silently before scavenging for more items for round two. 

Round two and Alan was now in possession of :  
-Jeff's glasses  
-Virgil's biggest paint brush   
-Gordon's Olympic medal  
-John's astronomy book  
-My laptop 

Round Three and I'm out because I grew too confident and tried to balance a tennis ball on his shoulder and it rolled off. 

There was one heart stopping moment when Alan moved in his sleep and everything shifted, but he soon settled and although a lot of things wobbled, they stayed put. 

Round three and Alan now has:  
-Scott's left shoe under his chin right near his nose  
-Virgil's cactus   
-A plate of Grandma's cookies  
-Gordon's swimming trunks (wet and on Alan's stomach)   
-an empty fish bowl

Round four and John and Virgil are both out, their contributions of Jeff's paper weight and John's stuffed toy rocket ship that Virgil conjured up from places unknown, both fell. John is shocked that it's even in the house let alone in the middle of a game of human buckaroo. 

Successfully added to the pile are:

-Scott's air force cap  
-Jeff's light up model of the moon  
\- Brains' antique microscope from the bookshelf. 

We'd entered round five and the rug was getting hard to see. Gordon was hovering over Alan's chest with a frying pan when Alan moved. The boys froze. Alan stretched out an arm and everything tumbled. 

We scattered as the items crashed to the floor, Alan flailing under his rug prison as each of us raced in a different direction, Scott to flop down on a pool lounger, Virgil to Two's hanger, Gordon to the kitchen, Jeff back to his office and John and I to the library where we each picked up a book and acted innocent. 

"Why is the house on the couch?" Alan's yell echoed around the house followed by more crashes and then the sound of running feet. 

Jeff, being the legend that he is, stuck his head out of his office to tell Alan to stop making so much noise and quit running in the house. 

And that's the story of how we owe Brains a replacement microscope and how Alan learnt never to fall asleep anywhere but his bedroom ever again.


	12. Day 12

Day 12 of isolation on Tracy Island. 

It's been a weird day today, we've spent most of the day feeling bored and restless. I've watched the boys roam the villa like caged animals, stalking here and there, growling at each other when someone got in their way and generally being big old grumpy pants men. Honestly, I'm getting sick of the lot of them. 

I snuck into the kitchen to make a sandwich, not because I wasn't allowed to make one, but because I wanted to make ONLY ONE, and they all seem to have a radar for someone making food and will instantly appear at your side, all puppy eyes and you have to make them one too. Ain't nobody got time for that! 

I was craving a simple cheese and pickle sarnie, a bag of walkers cheese and onion and a can of cherry coke. I'm simple in my needs. I made my lunch and took it with me to the lounge, thinking I'd take advantage of them all wandering around, haunting the halls like the ghosts of quarantine present and maybe watch an episode of something. 

I lifted one perfectly cut triangle up to my mouth… 

"Hey! What you eating?" Gordon materialised behind me like a genie from a bottle, making me jump out of my skin and drop the remote control. 

"Food," I answered warily. "My food." 

"Oh, OK." He dropped down next to me. "What you watching?" 

"I don't know yet," I put the plate down and bent to retrieve the remote. 

"Where's John?" 

I was instantly distracted, curse him! 

"Oh he's…" I looked away for a split second to locate the missing Mr and when I looked back half my sarnie was gone and his cheeks were bulging as he chewed frantically. 

I glared. He finally swallowed and reached for my can to wash it down. I smacked his hand and glared some more. 

"Where does a General keep his armies?" 

"What?" 

"In his sleevies!" he flapped his hands to emphasise his point. He looked ridiculous. 

I tried so hard not to laugh, but the idiot was there, grinning at me and I broke. 

"Ha! You laughed, I'm off the hook!" his hand delved into my crisp packet triumphantly. 

Apparently that's a rule in the house, you laugh and he gets away with anything. Who knew. 

And that's how we ended up in a joke off.

Everyone slowly gravitated back to the lounge, drawn by the mad laughter. One by one they joined in, each offering a few of their favourite jokes and soon we were all laughing. 

I shall include a few of our best ones for your giggling pleasure, because in times like this it's important to laugh, it's important to share and it's important to forgive. We're all in this together and yes, you're gonna have tough days, you're gonna get on each other's nerves or find it impossible to raise a smile. But don't worry, we got your back. 

What's red and smells like blue paint? 

Red paint. 

Sometimes I tuck my knees into my chest and lean forward. That’s just how I roll.

Star light, star bright  
First star I see tonight  
I wish I may, I wish I might  
Oh wait, it's just a satellite

I went into a pet shop. I said, “Can I buy a goldfish?” The guy said, “Do you want an aquarium?”

I said, “I don’t care what star sign it is.”

As a scarecrow, people say I’m outstanding in my field. But hay, it’s in my jeans.

What is an astronaut's favorite key on the keyboard?

The space bar!

Two goldfish are in a tank. One looks at the other and says, “You know how to drive this thing?!”

How do the aliens get their baby to sleep?

They ROCKET!

What does a witch use to keep her hair up?

Scarespray!

Why did Van Gogh become a painter?

Because he didn't have an ear for music.

How many astronomers does it take to change a light bulb? 

None, astronomers aren't scared of the dark.

Will invisible airplanes ever be a thing?  
I just can’t see them taking off.

What did Michelangelo say to the ceiling? 

I got you covered.

What do you get when you cross a Cocker Spaniel,  
a Poodle and a ghost?

A cocker poodle boo.

What is the difference between God and a pilot?

God doesn’t think he’s a pilot.

I couldn’t believe that the highway department called my dad a thief.  
But when I got home, all the signs were there.

I waited and stayed up all night and tried to figure out where the sun was. Then it dawned on me.

Why can’t you hear a pterodactyl go to the bathroom?

Because the “P” is silent!

What do you think of that new restaurant on the moon? 

The food’s great but it has no atmosphere.

Never criticize someone until you have walked a mile in their shoes.  
That way, when you criticize them, you’ll be a mile away, and you’ll have their shoes.

How does NASA organize a party?

They planet.


	13. Day 13

Day 13 of isolation on Tracy Island. 

All of us woke up in a state of awareness and panic yesterday, because it was April 1st, and the boys are bored and evil. 

John, Scott and I were up early and waiting for the coffee to brew when we noticed something strange. 

"John, can you try to find me some coffee cups?" Scott asked, having opened the cupboard and found it empty. We checked the dishwasher. Nothing. Checked another cupboard. Empty. 

Suspicious looks were exchanged, on this day it's every man for himself. 

"I need my coffee, I'm not having this!" Seriously, no one wants to see me without caffeine in the morning. It's a tropical island, its warm, iced coffee works too… or it would if we actually possessed any glasses. 

"What the hell is going on?" 

We split up and went on a hunt. The picnic set was missing its glasses, the outdoor dining sets were missing theirs too, the wet bars were the same, the pint glasses, the cocktail glasses, the scotch tumblers, the champagne flutes, even the spare plastic ones we keep for stocking up the crafts, had all vanished. We checked the infirmary. Empty. Then Brains' lab, even the beakers were gone. 

By the time Virgil got up we were all drinking coffee out of soup bowls and not impressed. We poured him a bowl in greeting. He looked mildly surprised but didn't say anything, he's like me, so used to randomness now that it's not worth questioning it so early in the morning. 

We made some food and were munching happily when we heard a yell from one of the bedrooms, followed by a muffled thump and some noises that sounded painful. 

We all raced out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the bedrooms, following the sound to Gordon's room. We banged on the door but only heard pathetic moaning. Scott took charge, opened the door and stepped straight into a puddle of water. 

Gordon was flat on his back on his soaking wet bathroom floor, scattered glasses, mugs and beakers littering the floor and every surface, some still filled with water. 

"Who did this?" he growled. 

All four of us exchanged confused glances, we didn't have a clue. 

He didn't seem to be hurt so we grabbed a few mugs and glasses for our coffee and juice and left him to it, going back to our breakfast, no doubt the guilty party would out themselves by the end of the day. 

The anonymous pranks continued all day. Virgil opened pod 3 and found it filled with balloons, the lounge was covered in post-it notes that labeled every single item in there, book, lamp, pillow, chair, pen, everything.

John bit into a bagel that was supposed to be spread with Nutella and found it was marmite which made him gag. He stood in the bathroom with his tongue hanging out, scrubbing it with his toothbrush for more than five minutes. My boy is a tad dramatic at times, though that stuff is vile. 

The pranks were many and varied, salt in the sugar bowl, sugar in the salt shaker, apple juice in Jeff's whisky decanter and mentos in the ice cube tray (poor Brains dropped a few in his coke…). Bubble wrap under every rug in the house, Scott's deodorant stick replaced with cream cheese, clear nail varnish painted onto the soap at the kitchen sink, confetti on the ceiling fan of Jeff's office and the cream in some Oreo cookies replaced with toothpaste. Some evil genius also put tape over the fingerprint scanner on everyone's phones, driving us all nuts trying to figure out what was going on. 

One brave soul attached an airhorn to the bottom of Jeff's desk chair which went off when he sat down. 

Alan got me by standing in front of the open fridge with his hoodie on backwards, his hood up to cover his face. I walked in, said hello to him and offered him a cookie, he ignored me. I tapped the cookie on his shoulder, he ignored me. Thinking that he had his headphones in I pulled his hood down and the little bugger was grinning at me. I screamed and flailed, he almost fell over laughing, I vowed murder… It wasn't pretty. Also, his hair and face were streaked with blue…I don't know how. 

I wasn't innocent though, my contribution to the day was more subtle and to go about my business as normal, but every hour or so I'd sneak off and change an item of clothing and my hair style, first my hoodie, then my shoes, then my jeans, then my top. They were all looking at me funny, trying to work out what was going on and what, if anything, was different, but none of them were confident enough to actually ask me in case they were wrong. It was hilarious to me, annoying and doubt inducing to them. 

Apparently it's traditional in their house for all pranks to cease at midnight and then everyone has to confess their sins, although the rules state that no one is allowed to enact revenge for anything that happened that day, prank war rules do not apply. 

Alan confessed to the sugar and salt switch, the balloons in the pod (with Gordon's help), the Nutella/ marmite swap and the oreos. 

Gordon was responsible for the confetti on the fan, the mentos in the ice cubes, the cream cheese deodorant swap and the airhorn. 

Scott took the glory of the post-it's, the apple juice in the decanter and he owes me a bottle of nail varnish.

John was the evil one behind the fingerprint scanners and Virgil the filling of every glass in the house with water and them ending up in Gordon's bathroom. Jeff confessed to the bubble wrap under every rug and blue food dye in Alan's shower head, apparently it was in Gordon's too but he hadn't made it to the shower after the water prank. 

The whole day had been hilarious in its own way but it was a relief to go to bed and stop walking around in a permanent state of alertness. I pulled back the covers and that's when I saw it. It was looking at me, all beady eyes, eight skinny legs and ready to pounce. I was across the room in a second, screaming like a banshee, trying to throw myself out of the window (tarantulas I can do, house spiders I cannot). 

"Get it! Get it! Get it!" 

John came to my rescue, caught it in a glass, trapping it with a piece of paper he was using as a bookmark and brought it over to the window. I backed away slowly, ready to run. 

"Don't worry, I've got i-" He tripped over my shoe and the thing sailed at me like it had been shot from a cannon landing in the middle of my chest. 

More screaming, Jeff running, me flapping… Chaos! Jeff plucked the thing off me and then, much to my horror, he gave it an experimental squish. 

And that's the story of why John is hiding in five with a rubber spider for company. 

Send dye remover, Alan is still blue.


	14. Day 14

Day 14 of isolation on Tracy Island and the boys actually got a call out today. A hospital in Spain was in desperate need of masks and other essential medical supplies. A company in Taiwan had offered to donate a large number of those needed, but in the time it would take to ship them, hundreds, if not thousands of hospital workers could potentially contract the virus, simply through not having the protection they needed. The answer was obvious and the boys were more than happy to help out, eager to get off the island, even just for a little while and to actually feel like they were of use.

I could completely understand how they were feeling, even I was feeling cooped up and restless and I'm usually happy to veg on the couch all day with Gordon and only move for potty breaks. The difference here is that couch vegging is a choice, you have the option to leave, to go somewhere else or do something else if you want to. Now we can't, it's the feeling of being trapped that is the worst part. You can't visit the people you care about, you can't really do anything to help and for people that are usually front of the line when it comes to serving the community, it's like losing your purpose.

We are lucky, we have each other and the podsterons community, but we know that there are people out there that are alone and have no one to talk to, no one to help them, it's a sobering thought and one that isn't easy to come to terms with. Being able to help in any small way means the world to us and millions of others out there.

Jeff had done all he could to help with anonymous donations and Alan, who is king of social media, has been scouring it for worthy causes and ways that we can help, even in a small way and we had been putting together a game plan that we hope to enact in the coming days and weeks, for as long as this confinement lasts.

John had already headed up to the office, Virgil and Gordon had already taken off. Jeff and Alan were busy so that left the rest of the family i.e Scott and Grandma, to indulge in their favourite pastime, annoying me and getting under my feet. They do this under the guise of helping, either by trying to aid me with the cooking or by providing "quality control" for the food I make.

So there I was making plans for dinner, scouring the fridge in the hopes that the fridge fairy had visited us in the night and blessed us rather than the fridge raider "Mr Nobody" that seemed to rock up somewhere between midnight and 3am. Any time I asked who had eaten that piece of cake or that half a chicken, the answer was always shrugs and denials.

"So Mr Nobody lives here, does he?" Honestly it's like having children sometimes, bottomless pit children that are sneaky and can bust in anywhere.

I dragged a few things out of the rapidly dwindling fridge contents and put them on the side meaning to have a Google and see what it would offer me in terms of recipes.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a hand sneak into my field of vision and swipe a lump of cheese.

"What was that? What did you just take?" Every time I got something out and put it down I found Scott nibbling it.

"Nothing," he denied, though his quick swallow told me otherwise.

I narrowed my eyes at him and moved to the store cupboard to see if we had any tomato puree left.

I glanced over and watched a cold sausage disappear.

"Will you stop that!"

"What?! I'm helping."

"No, you aren't."

"Sure I am, I'm testing it."

"Just stop!"

He shrugged, stuck his hands in his pockets and meandered off with a "fine, I'll leave you to it."

"Yes, because the world would fall off its axis in shock if you actually did something useful," I yelled after him, but he knew I didn't really mean it so it had absolutely no effect on him.

I checked to see just how much he'd snaffled… Dammit Scott!

There was only one thing for it, I needed to draft in reinforcements. Grabbing my phone I text the family WhatsApp group, appealing for help.

I'll let you judge how that went…

<https://www.dropbox.com/s/ikrkkj4wmymkgke/PicsArt_04-05-10.10.58.jpg?dl=0>


	15. Day 15

Day 15 of isolation on Tracy Island and it's Scott's birthday! 

This basically means he's more annoying than usual, he's refused to get dressed today, he's lounging around on the couch in his birthday pyjamas (which is a onesie in Thunderbird One colours) and acting like he's king for the day. 

I asked him what he wanted as his special birthday dinner and he wanted to fire up the BBQ much to the cheers of his brothers. The boys, as with most men, seem to be obsessed with the idea of cooking with fire. They go into full on caveman mode, "I am man, I have meat, I cook meat on flame. Be in awe," while I'm just standing there with a fire extinguisher at the ready. 

I'm being a little mean here, the younger two aren't too bad, they prefer to sit back and have food delivered to them and John isn't a fan of cooking outside, he prefers to cook in the comfort of a kitchen if he has to feed himself. Me, I'll cook anywhere, but this was the Scott show today, so I left him to it and just made myself useful by putting together all the side dishes to accompany the "flame cooked goodness". 

Apparently, my idea of classic barbecue side dishes differs significantly from theirs, being that we originated from different sides of the pond, so I got on my old friend Google. Honestly, I've never seen so many dishes that involve corn, I mean, corn on the cob is normal, the odd sprinkle of little golden nuggets in a salad, but baked corn, fried corn, corn salad, corn bread, I just don't get it! What's with the corn?

I headed into the kitchen, John trailing behind me in the guise of helping me, but really he just wanted to hide and get some peace because "they keep trying to talk to me and they are so loud."

The second we opened the door we were hit with the worst smell known to mankind. The smell of burning. There was Grandma, in the middle of utter chaos, waving away the smoke pouring out of the oven. 

We dived in to help, threw away the top cake that had caught on fire, but managed to semi rescue the bottom one, which was only a little singed. Who's bright idea had it been to leave her alone in the kitchen when we knew that she wouldn't be able to order in a cake this year?

We shooed her out, promising to do our best with what we had, insisting that she go and relax with the others and leave it all to us. 

John took over the cake construction while I got on with the food needed to make sure we weren't just chewing on shoe leather steaks. 

I gave up on trying to figure out their recipes and stuck with the old classics of baked potatoes (because mac and cheese should not belong on the same table as flame grilled meat in my opinion) some leafy salads, coleslaw and the corn on the cob they insisted on. That would do, they could accept it and be grateful, we're in the middle of a lockdown not on holiday. They had burger and hot dog buns, they could make do. 

I finished tossing the salad and put it away in the fridge to keep cold and got my first look at the cake. John had done his best, cutting away the worst burnt bits and attempting to salvage the rest with frosting, icing pens and prayers but it wasn't looking good. 

"Well, we've found one thing that you definitely aren't great at."

"I think I did rather well considering," Space hubby sniffed, insulted. 

"Yeah, you did, it looks great," I soothed.

"Don't patronise me."

He ignored me after that. 

It was actually a pretty nice dinner, I was pleasantly surprised. The chicken was a little dry, the sausages a tad burnt and the ribs a bit undercooked, but the steak, which was apparently the most important part, was perfect, as were the burgers. 

We went inside after food for cake (which didn't actually get eaten I'm sorry to report) and gifts. Obviously we couldn't get out to buy presents and no delivery company will come out this far in this crisis, so we had to improvise with home made items, but we think we did OK.

See if you can guess who did what gift... 

Happy birthday, to the biggest Bro, the fast and first Thunderbird. We wouldn't be without you.

<https://www.dropbox.com/s/01bo27hdkmzfutz/PicsArt_04-05-10.25.09.jpg?dl=0>


	16. Day 16

Day 16 of isolation on Tracy Island and I realised that I made a horrible, terrible, stupid, amateurish mistake. 

We've been having family movie nights, last night was my turn to pick a movie and I've been trying to introduce the family to some classic British entertainment. 

Tonight, after the virtual Podders Pub visit, I sat them down to show them the pure genius that is Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Jeff has seen it before, as has Scott, Virgil and John, but for Gordon and Alan it was a new experience. 

I was worried that they might not get the humour, but they loved it. I think part of their enjoyment came from listening to Jeff and Scott quoting some of the best lines together. Then Gordon and Alan started screaming "Ni Ni Ni" and popping up and down on the sofa like demented meerkats. It was hilarious. 

But how, I hear you asking, has this delightfully wholesome family experience turned into something that I will regret for days, weeks, maybe even months to come? 

Let me rewind by four hours. Picture the scene, we're all sitting around and John, being John, is on his tablet and being helpful by catching us up on the latest Corvid-19 information, some of which included known symptoms. In a recent report, it's been stated that many people are reporting a loss of taste and smell as symptoms they are experiencing, but they will not be added to the official list, along with a cough, temperature and headaches. 

Can you guess where this is going? I'm going to tell you anyway. 

It was an hour or so after the movie had ended and we were starting the whole getting ready to go to bed thing. You know how it is, you make noise about being a bit tired, it's getting a bit late, should probably turn in soon. Then you sit there for another half an hour or so checking your phone, getting a last drink, finishing that conversation. 

I'd just made everyone that wanted one a nice hot chocolate, Scott and Jeff were on the whiskey so declined. I was cuddled up under a blanket, book on my lap and my hands cradling my mug. I lifted it to my lips and inhaled deeply to smelly the chocolatey goodness… 

I sniffed. That was not chocolate. 

"Oh, oh my gods, what's that smell?" 

I gagged, then nudged John. 

"Can you smell that? Is this milk off?" I stuck my mug under his nose, which honestly wouldn't be of much use as he had the same drink as me but he dutifully sniffed. 

"It's fine."

I sniffed the mug again. Now it seemed OK. Maybe I'd imagined it. Phantom smells are a thing, right?

I risked an experimental sip. Tasted OK but I could still smell something at the back of my nose and now my cocoa was tainted. I gave Scott my mug even though he hadn't wanted any because that boy will finish anything. 

I gave up on my book and started scrolling Facebook. I cuddled deeper into my snuggie blanket and sighed contentedly… it was back! I gagged again, the stench hitting the back of my throat. 

I grabbed John's head and yanked him closer. 

"Smell that! What is it?" 

If rotten eggs, old cheese, skunk spray and spoiled milk all got together for a party, it still wouldn't be this bad. 

His face crumpled in disgust and he flailed, trying to pull away. 

Alan giggled, Gordon muffled his laughter behind a pillow. 

We all turned to look at them, eyes narrowed in suspicion. 

"We fart in your general direction!" they both yelled as one. 

"Why?" I wailed. "Why would you do that, you disgusting monsters?" I swiped at the nearest one, which happened to be Gordon, with my book whapping his shoulder. 

He let rip again, this time making no effort to muffle the sound, lifting his left butt cheek and using his hands to waft the stink waves closer. 

"Gross boy!" 

Poor John got squished as I scooted away as fast as possible, steamrolling over his lap, kicking at Gordon. "Back foul beast!" 

"We were only trying to help!" Alan protested. 

"How? How is that helping?" John asked in that long suffering tone that older brothers have. 

"We were testing your sense of smell, you passed."

And that's the story of how I was reminded of just how disgusting boys can be. 

Send gas masks!


	17. Day 17

Day 17 of isolation on Tracy Island and the boys decided that today would be the perfect afternoon to play pictionary. 

What did I learn today? 

That Virgil and Scott are an impossible team to beat because they seem to have some kind of mental telepathy thing going on, plus Virgil can draw so his are great even if we are on a 30 second time limit and drawing on tablets. 

Alan and Gordon will never take this game seriously and that John takes it too seriously, especially when you get told that your drawing of 'space' isn't accurate and that you should know better. 

That led to what is now being referred to as the 'pictionary promise' where we all had to promise never to play again without adult supervision to stop us throwing things at each other. Yes, it was me that threw the pillow first but he deserved it. 

There were arguments, there was shouting and much frustration (especially from Gordon who thought he'd drawn a brilliant starfish but Alan didn't get it so he had to embellish). 

Scott was very proud of his Mr Potato Head and couldn't understand why it took Virgil so long and a sneaky pantomiming of "got your nose" before he answered correctly. 

John still hasn't forgiven me not getting his drawing of a highchair and Alan's electrocuted mermaid has seen better days. 

Virgil's igloo is a masterpiece though. 

Here is a selection of some of the best. 

<https://www.dropbox.com/s/mkwgkdefteuv3kf/PicsArt_04-06-10.15.45.jpg?dl=0>


	18. Day 18

Day 18 of Isolation on Tracy Island 

And today I made a fatal mistake, I told Alan, Scott and Virgil that if they continued to sit around all day and eat everything in sight they would be too chonky to fit in their uniforms. 

This didn't go down well, as you would expect. I was accused of favouritism because I didn't include Gordon or John in my attack. In my defence, one is constantly swimming and the one other does Zero-G workouts, those three sit around on the couch and eat pie. 

Virgil resented my insinuation that he had the potential to run to chubb and started shouting about how he lifts, he exercises, how dare I! Then he grabbed a screaming Alan and proceeded to bench press him over his head. Honestly, I was quite impressed that he didn't drop him with all the flailing and kicking Alan was doing, but I didn't let on. 

"It doesn't matter," I continued once Alan was dropped back onto the couch and he'd stopped yelling about how his life had flashed before his eyes. "You all need to move around a bit more, we're lucky here, on a private island we aren't limited in outdoor time, not like other people."

"She's right," Kayo agreed, flopping down on the couch next to me. We did a little fist bump in greeting and female solidarity. It was good to have her home, the testosterone in the house had almost drowned me. She'd wandered into the lounge halfway through the pictionary incident, seen us all acting like badly behaved baboons, and announced that she should have stayed with Kyrano, whom she'd been visiting when the lockdown had come into enforcement. She'd waited out the two weeks and after both of them had shown no signs of symptoms and they had driven each other nuts she had called time and headed for home. Since she hadn't taken public transport, not come into contact with other people and had already gone through the decontamination chamber we knew she was safe. 

"Just because we don't all feel the need to be constantly on the go, doesn't mean we're lazy," Scott added. 

"Exercise is boring," Alan groaned with the same tone that every teen learns the minute they turn 13, part boredom, part sarcasm, all attitude. 

"No it's not," Kayo said, rolling her eyes, "you're being dramatic. You just want to sit around and play video games all day."

"Well if exercise was more like a game then I'd do it," he shot back. "In fact, if you two think it's so important, you do it, make it fun and we'll move."

He sat back with a grin, arms folded triumphantly. Kayo and I shared a side eye that was epic enough for a whole conversation. What do you think? Can we do it? We got this! We so do! Boys, how dare they doubt us! 

We both nodded in agreement. 

"Deal," she shook on it with the little bugger that still thought he'd won. How wrong he would be. 

"So," Kayo started once we'd vanished outside for our council of war. "I have no idea what to make them do."

"Something fun but strenuous," I prompted. 

She looked at me like I was a particularly dense pudding brained idiot. "Yeah, I got that."

We both thought for a while, I was mentally rolodexing my way through everything I'd ever seen in my entire life but I was coming up blank. 

"That confused look on your face isn't inspiring me with confidence," Kayo accused. 

"Don't worry, I'll get something soon…" my poor brain which hadn't been required to do anything more taxing than deciding if I wanted brown bread or white for the last week, gave a feeble flop as I prodded it into action. It lifted its head and spat out a memory of something I'd seen on Facebook a few weeks ago… "I've got it! Human hungry hippos!" 

"Genius!" she praised, then paused. "How do we do it?" 

"Right, we're gonna need some supplies, we need two plastic laundry baskets, as many balls as we can find and one of us is going to have to venture into the pit, because we need two skateboards and Alan's the only one that has them, so that's on you as this was my idea."

She looked like she wanted to argue but had no grounds on which to construct said argument so gave in gracefully. We high fived, wished each other luck and took off in separate directions to start the scavenge. 

Just over an hour later and we were set. There was a trash can filled with balls of all shapes and sizes including tennis balls, snooker balls, ping-pong balls, golf balls and a few basketballs for good measure. Into the pile we'd also added as many balloons as we could find left over from birthdays and other celebrations, blown up in various sizes. Using a large sheet of cardboard we trapped the balls and balloons in the can and turned it over onto the ground. 

We had the laundry baskets on the ground in front of the two skateboards. Using coloured tape we had marked out the area of play on the patio slabs, indicating the players individual areas. 

Once we were done we informed the boys. Alan, Gordon, Scott and Virgil were all up for a game. We explained the rules, start behind your line and in your own box, grab as many balls as you can in your basket when pushed forward and then throw your balls backwards into your corner when you are pulled back. Don't use your hands to grab the balls or place them in your basket. 

At the sound of the buzzer (a timer on my phone) Kayo pulled out the cardboard and lifted the trash can dramatically, spilling its contents across the floor. They had thirty seconds to get to gobbling. Alan and Scott were on the boards first while Virgil and Gordon started the push and pull routine. Scott had the longer reach advantage but Alan was easier to push and pull. 

We did four rounds giving everyone a chance to do each role twice and by the end of it they were a sweaty, panting mess, but they were laughing and that was the most important thing. Team Tiny won by three balls and two balloons by the way. 

And they had to agree, they weren't as fit as they thought they were, but moving had felt good. So really, everyone was a winner. 

We didn't film ours but here's someone else's so you get the idea. 

https://youtu.be/W-xPyqPC_NY


	19. Day 19

Day 19 of isolation on Tracy Island and Virgil is a murderer. An accidental murderer but he's still devastated by his actions. 

Picture the scene, we're all lounging around by the pool, it's warm, it's sunny and they're all oiled up and roasting nicely in the sun. I'm hiding under an umbrella because I'm pale and interesting, as is John who is trying to steal said umbrella but I'm not letting him. Get your own my friend. 

Virgil was snoring, it happens a lot, you get used to it. None of them get much regular or uninterrupted sleep as standard so they have all been making the most of this enforced holiday by napping whenever they want and indulging in the ultimate luxury of more than one lie-in in a row. 

Scott heard it first, the high pitched whine that announced its imminent arrival. 

Scott batted it away and it detoured to Alan who is apparently young and tasty, it bugged him for a while, buzzing around his head and trying to decide which choice bit of flesh it should land on. Alan was having none of it and smacked at it with his gaming magazine. 

It tried it's luck with Gordon but he dived in the pool and it gave up. It hovered around for a bit, obviously choosing his next victim a bit more carefully. It had a choice, the undercooked meat that was hiding under an umbrella, or the bronzed god that was fast asleep. No contest really. 

We watched as it flitted back and forth, getting lower and lower. It zoomed the length of his body, picking its target and finally settled on one arm. 

I felt sorry for him and yelled out a warning. 

"Virg! Virgy! Bug!" 

He mumbled something but didn't wake up. Alan kicked him helpfully and he awoke with a snort. 

"What?" he grumbled. 

"Mozzie," Scott pointed. 

The mosquito, obviously sensing that the all it could eat buffet was about to close up shop, dived in, puncturing his skin. 

"Oww!" His arm twitched in reflex and, as if happening in slow motion, we watched in horror as his bicep curled and snapped back. His face was a picture, a mixture of disgust and regret when he looked at the squashed remains of his attacker. 

"Guns of Steel, Guns of Steel!" Alan cheered while poor Virgil stared down at his arm as if he'd kicked a puppy. 

"It's dead. I squished it." I swear I saw his bottom lip wobble. 

"It's just a bug, Virg," Scott soothed, dropping his sunglasses back down and settling back against his lounger. 

"It was a living creature and I killed it!" 

And that's why Virgil is a murderer and why I ended up comforting the big idiot, cleaning off his arm because he was suddenly squeamish and saying a few words of respect to a bug. Honestly, you couldn't make this stuff up.


	20. Day 20

Day 20 of isolation on Tracy Island and Alan just found out about the T-shirt isolation challenge that has been going around the Internet. And of course they all decided that they needed to try the thing. Dumb butts! 

In case you haven't seen this challenge it's where an extremely strong, flexible and well balanced person does a handstand against a wall and attempts to put on a T-shirt. 

Alan had to go first because it was his bright idea. He actually did pretty well once we got him upside down (which took two of us). He managed to get one arm in a sleeve, then balanced on that hand to get the other arm in, then he managed to pull the shirt up enough to get his head in half way before he wobbled and fell over. 

Gordon went next and managed to get upside down on his own and got both his arms in with zero problems, but once again it was the head insertion that was his downfall, literally. He took out a pot plant as he fell. 

Scott tried next and he was sneaky but victorious. He climbed his way up the wall, all wobbly limbs and determination and got himself up straight. The t-shirt was placed before him, helpfully rolled down so that he could slip a hand in each arm, one at a time and then came the tough bit, but Scott had that covered. 

He balanced on one arm, lifted the front hem of the shirt, stuck it between his teeth and then reached for the back edge, pulled that over his head and then, after balancing again and switching to the other arm, managed to pull the shirt down. 

He didn't so much flip right side up in victory as flop dramatically to the floor. But his head was through the hole and he called that a win. 

Virgil… We couldn't actually get that boy upside down, we gave up after Alan got smacked in the head by a flailing foot. 

They all looked at John expectantly. 

"What?" he asked. 

"Your turn," Alan challenged. 

"Oh no, you don't want me to show you all up," the confident space hubby shook his head. 

They exchanged disbelieving looks and then burst out laughing. 

"Go on babe, you got this," I encouraged. 

"You sure?" he asked them. 

They all nodded. 

John shrugged and made his way over to the wall. The T-shirt was prepared and he settled his hands on the floor. One little hop and his feet walked easily up the wall. He straightened up and got his balance. One hand lifted and slid easily into the first arm hole. He rocked sideways and lifted the other hand and in it went. 

That was there his technique changed, he lowered himself easily until his head touched the floor, straight through the neck hole. One arm for balance and two quick little flicks and the shirt cleared his shoulders. He lifted back up, straightening his arms and then balanced on his left arm, using his right to tug the shirt into place. Perfect. 

With total control he bent his knees, got his feet against the wall and walked forward on his hands as his legs lowered. 

His feet hit the floor and he straightened up, taking in the shocked looks on everyone's faces.

"How the heck did you do that?" Gordon gaped. 

John shrugged again. "You think I don't get bored up there sometimes? Zero-G means you get used to doing things a little differently. I can brush my teeth upside down too, and do my hair, in fact that sometimes helps."

"Your turn," Alan grinned looking pointedly in my direction. 

"No way, no how, not gonna happen."

"Oh come on, we've all done it."

"Yeah, but you're all highly trained action heros, I'm a barely awake couch potato."

"We'll help."

Curse my boredom! 

My legs did not cooperate. Neither did my hands. Or my arms. Or any other part of my body for that matter. 

After two aborted attempts to get my legs up the wall Scott was drafted to grab my ankles and haul them up in the air and hold me up so I couldn't fall. 

I managed to get one arm in one sleeve hole and decided to try to get my head in next then worry about the other arm later. But I have significantly more hair than they do, which blinded me and created a very slippery surface on the floor. My nose will never be the same again. I looked like Cousin It. My second arm got stuck at a weird angle and Scott dropped my because he was laughing so much.

Never trust him when he says he won't let go. He lies. Never trust them when they say they won't laugh. They all lie. 

We will never speak of this again. 

https://youtu.be/plBQLKH9HWo


	21. Day 21

Day 21 of isolation on Tracy Island. 

I've been watching Virgil paint recently , he obviously does that whenever he gets some down time but since all we have at the moment is down time he's been making the most of it and finishing off all the projects he'd grown tired of or lost motivation for. There is nothing worse for an artist than being interrupted mid-flow and having to run off and come back to it hours later when the light has changed as has your mood. 

"I wish I had any kind of artistic ability," I mused watching him sweep his brush full of perfectly mixed brown through a mass of green and with two flicks of his wrist and a smudge of his palette knife he'd made an adorable woodland path through the grass and trees. 

"Everyone is artistic in their own way," he insisted, not even looking my way. 

"Rubbish, I can't even draw a straight line."

"Liar, I've seen you do eyeliner," he produced a perfect puffy cloud with a little brush swirl. 

"That's totally different, anyone can learn to do makeup, actual painting takes skills."

"I doubt I could do makeup."

"Of course you could."

"No way." 

"Yes way." 

The good natured argument went back and forth for a while. 

"There's only one way to prove who is right," Virgil declared. "We're going to need models."

***

"Will you keep still and stop twitching before I end up poking you in the eye," I told Scott for the tenth time in five minutes. 

"The brush tickles!" 

"I feel ridiculous," Gordon huffed as Virgil attempted to follow my instructions. 

"Base colour on the lids and upper eye up to the eyebrow, accent colour on the lids, blend in the middle," he chanted, the tip of his tongue poking out as he concentrated hard. He glanced at my living canvas sneakily. 

"How have you already done the eyeliner?" 

"Practice. Will you keep your eyes closed!" 

"What's that thing?" 

"Mascara wand, you just kinda sweep it through the lashes. It'll make them really long and lush."

"Yeah, because that's just what I've always wanted," Gordon muttered. 

"Oww!" 

"I told you not to move!" 

"I couldn't help sneezing!" 

"Well now your eyeliner is running, head back, don't let it drip, I'll fix it!" 

"What do I do with the base coat?" 

"That's called foundation, sweetie. Just cover his face with it."

I was so busy making sure that Scott hadn't completely ruined my hard work on his liner that I didn't notice what was going on on my left until I heard Gordon's splutter. 

"Virgil!" 

"What?" he asked innocently. 

"That is not a makeup brush, that is a paint brush, it's mahoosive and you just painted his tongue."

"That little makeup egg was taking too long."

"It's a beauty blender, not an egg, and you will do this properly. Give me that brush." He slapped the handle into my outstretched palm. It looked like he should have been painting a fence with it. "Boys," I sighed, rolling my eyes. 

"Hey, we're the victims here," Gordon complained for probably the twentieth time since we'd dragged them into this. 

I quickly covered Scott's face with a nice foundation that I thought would brighten his skin tone just a tiny bit, dabbed a tiny amount of concealer under his eyes and then set to work with the contouring, just highlighting under his cheekbones but keeping the soft roundness of his face because it was so nice. 

"What's that stuff?" Virgil demanded to know. I glanced over at Gordon and had to bite my lip hard to keep from laughing. Well, that certainly wasn't his colour. 

"Contour, think of it as shading for his cheekbones and other areas like the nose to define the shape or build a new one."

"Shading I can do, gimme."

I handed it over then made Scott smile as I brushed a little blusher over the apples of his cheeks. Then finished off with a brush of translucent powder to seal the foundation. Perfect. 

Last thing was his eyebrows, now I know many people don't do them last, but I like to, I like to see how the rest of the face is shaping up before I commit to them. I say this with total confidence to Virgil but really it's just because I will do my eyebrows based on just how many mistakes I made with my eyeliner and how thick I had to make it to fix it. 

Being boys they already had thick eyebrows so didn't need much infilling, so all I did for Scott was smooth out the lines and add a nice little curve to the end to give it a slightly more delicate shape. I'd be lying if I don't admit that my hands itched to grab some tweezers and tidy those bad boys up, but he'd suffered enough and far more placidly than Gordon so I let it go. 

"Finished!" I declared. "Bloody gorgeous."

"I know," Scott preened even though he wasn't allowed to look at his face yet. 

We waited for Virgil to finish up, which took forever because he was apparently struggling with Gordon's eyebrows, mostly because Gordon was frowning the entire time. 

"This is ridiculous," Gordon grouched, wincing when Virgil scrubbed at his eyebrow with a pencil. "I'll never live this down. How are you so calm about this?" 

"I'm secure in my masculinity, plus I don't drive the tiny craft."

Gordon aimed a punch at his eldest brother, who dodged easily. 

"Dammit, Gordo, now I have to fix that eyebrow!" 

Gordon sighed and stopped moving, just wanting the torture to end. 

"Right, I'm done. Let's get the judges."

Jeff, John, Alan, Kayo and Grandma stared at our handy work, their faces a mixture of amusement, horror and disbelief at what they were seeing. And I can't say I blame them. 

"So, who won?" Virgil asked. 

They all took a vote and announced the winner, but I'm not going to tell you who they picked. That's up to you to decide. The pictures are in the comments.

<https://www.dropbox.com/s/55xpi8yzdsho1c3/PicsArt_04-10-12.40.51.jpg?dl=0>


	22. Day 22

Day 22 of isolation on Tracy Island and today was a strange but fun one.

It started out with Jeff forgetting what a letter opener was. Picture the scene, he's sitting at his desk, working his way through his correspondence, sorting out the bag of post that had been picked up from the PO Box last supply run and putting everyone's fan mail into separate piles. He finds it soothing to organise things and to touch real, old fashioned letters. He's weird but we still love him. 

Anyway, he'd passed everyone their piles and started on his own and discovered that his letter opener was missing. Jeff is too classy to just shove a finger under the flap and rip it open, oh no, he wants to slice it open like a beast. 

"Where is it?" he grumbled, moving stacks of paper this way and that. It was part of a set that had been his grandfathers, a miniature sword that sat in a shield holder. 

"Where's what?" Scott asked. 

"The…" Jeff paused and we all waited. "The thing," he finished. 

"What thing, Dad?" Virgil got involved, wanting to help. 

"The…" he mimed opening a letter. "The envelope sword."

Gordon sniggered but shut up when Jeff shot a quelling look his way. 

"The letter opener?" Scott clarified, going over to help him search. 

"Yes, that's what I said," Jeff muttered, clearly annoyed, taking the letter opener from Scott who had found it in the waste paper bin beside the desk. 

"That's nothing," I shrugged, not looking up from my phone. "I once forgot what a tortoise was called while on the phone to a friend and called it a land turtle." (True story) 

Alan burst out laughing. John sighed, his eyes rolling to the ceiling, his expression clearly asking divinity to spare him from lockdown madness and crazy dumb wives. 

"And I forgot what eyes were, I think…" I paused as I thought about it, all do them looking at me expectantly. "I kinda wanted to say 'the things you see with' but it kinda mixed in my head with 'eyeballs' and I ended up calling them 'See balls'," I confessed. Even Jeff laughed at that one. "I just said the first thing that came to mind." (also a true story… Im dumb sometimes). 

Gordon picked up a book and held it out to me. "What should this have been called?" 

"Wordy paper," I answered. 

Alan pointed to his glass of milk. 

"Cookie gravy."

Scott felt the need to join in and tossed one of Virgil's work gloves into my lap. 

"Hand pants," I threw it back at him. 

"I wanna play!" 

Virgil pointed to a pot plant. 

"House tree!" Alan declared. 

Gordon pointed at John. 

"Zero-Grump."

"I resent that."

"Your turn then," Jeff challenged him, finding the whole thing very amusing. 

Gordon grabbed his phone and googled "common things" sending it to the projector. 

A picture of the sun flashed up. 

"Go on, John, name it."

"Space heater," he declared. Everyone cheered. 

A fly swat flashed up. 

"Splatula!" Virgil offered. 

And so it began. 

So far we have:

Arm thigh  
Knee pits  
Boobie trap  
Mountain Fountain   
Squiggly wiggly   
Wetty spaghetti   
Pool pants  
Booty suities  
Nope soap  
Slicey dicey   
Snippity snaps   
Boil pot  
Night light   
Image cage  
Bone foam  
Lip sip   
Softy sleepy   
Puppy Duck   
Bird leaf  
Eye Wig  
Top leg  
Bum bath  
Tock tick   
Fits to sits  
Pointy pretty   
Toe mittens  
Melty moo  
Water bricks   
Snow owls  
Bookie lookie   
Eye spys  
Needle trees  
Soup shovel  
Float coat  
Fart squirrel   
Draw stick   
Savoury donuts

Feel free to join in.


	23. Day 23

Day 23 of isolation on Tracy Island and its Easter Sunday. Now I don't celebrate Easter, but the family does, so I've tried to get into the spirit of it. 

Last week I was scrolling around the old Facebook and read a post that said a number of children had been a little confused about what counted as a key worker and what didn't. It's obviously very hard for kids to understand what is going on, one minute everything is normal and the next they aren't allowed to leave the house and no one can come in, not even family. They can't go to school or see their friends, everyone is talking about a scary virus and only people with important jobs are allowed to go to work. 

This had led them to ask if the Easter Bunny and the tooth fairy were classed as key workers as they had an important job but had to come to people's houses. They had been assured that they were indeed key workers and that no one would miss out. 

Inspired by this we had done a little digging and found a number of charities that were collecting donations of eggs for the children of key workers, and we just had to get involved. With Penelope's help we got in touch with a few of the charities that were helping. 

We sought out as many family run businesses and people that worked from home making eggs and gifts and put in orders for as many as they could make, wanting to support as many small businesses as we could and had them shipped to the charities organising the donations. 

We'd expected that to be the end of our involvement but yesterday we got a call from one of the charities informing us that their driver had been quarantined and that they couldn't deliver the eggs as they had promises. The boys needed no other information, they were already preparing to launch. Virgil, Gordon and Alan were more than happy to load up the crates of eggs and take them to their destination. 

They hadn't been back long before social media was awash with the news that International Rescue had gotten involved with delivering Easter joy by helping the Easter bunny with his rounds that year. It was cute as heck to see the boys, all wearing bunny ears, pushing large crates up to the doors of the new Nightingale Hospitals that had been springing up all over the UK. 

One thing I've noticed is that a bored Tracy is a dangerous Tracy, as Peneolope has discovered with their teasing behaviour of her when that mouse got in Two that one time…

I've also noticed that they are all incredibly competitive which, if you are smart, can be used to your advantage to trick them into doing all the jobs you don't want to do. 

I decided in my infinite wisdom that we would all benefit from a traditional english Sunday roast, so while they had been out delivering, I'd been busy in the kitchen attempting to cook a roast dinner that would satisfy this bunch of gannets. 

Now, I'm used to that being just a chicken, or a leg of lamb but, as grandma informed me "You're cooking for Tracy's now, you need at least three of everything, plus extra sides. Good luck." That didn't sound ominous at all, did it? 

Luckily they have a slightly bigger oven than I have at home, and by that I mean that if mine was the size of a mini and theirs is a double decker bus. We easily got three legs of lamb, four beef joints and five chickens on the spits and shelves, leaving more than enough room for roasting trays of vegetables. 

I was so casual about it (yes, I can be subtle, don't look at me with such a look of disbelief) and proudly bragged of how I was the fastest potato peeler this side of Mars. Instantly I had Scott and Alan attempting to beat my "record" for four potatoes a minute. 

While they were doing that I was able to sit back and drink my coffee without fear of someone stealing it as Virgil wasn't in the room and Scott was elbow deep in potato peelings. 

If I thought cooking a Christmas dinner was stressful, it's nothing compared to cooking a full roast for these human garbage disposals. I made a fatal mistake, I was feeling a bit nostalgic for the days of my childhood when you'd get a tidbit to test if the meat was properly cooked. But give to one and you have to give to them all… That's half a joint, part of a leg of lamb and a whole chicken already gone. I resorted to standing guard over the rest while attempting to teach Gordon how to make gravy while explaining the purpose of a Yorkshire pudding. 

"If you have a cheesemonger, and a fishmonger, why don't you have a meatmonger?" Alan asked. We all stared at him, in a mixture of "what the heck is he on?" and "oh my god he's right!". 

The boys helped to lay the table and carry the food to the dining room, but I suspect part of their willingness to help was the reason that I was now missing a number of the Yorkshires and the potato dish looked a little light. 

We had a nice, quiet dinner, no one argued, no one threw anything and there was wine, which is always a bonus. 

Sorry I don't have a more exciting update for you, but it's been a busy day and all we're doing now is eating chocolate and planning what to watch for our next movie marathon tomorrow. 

Happy Easter to you all, from the island to your home. Remember that no matter how nice the weather is, stay home, stay safe, and keep smiling. Spare a thought for our key workers, and if you can, make an effort to buy local and support those that need it. You could make all the difference.


	24. Day 24

Day 24 of isolation on Tracy Island. 

It's Easter Monday, a Bank Holiday back home for me in England, but of course, since no one is at work anymore it doesn't really matter that you could have the day off. 

Today was a lazy day which, let's be honest, pretty much every day has been for the past week. They all love me today, because I cooked them breakfast which I left in the warmer so they could help themselves once they woke up. 

They all slowly trickled down one after the other and I was kept busy refreshing the coffee cups and generally trying to tidy up the mess that seemed to explode every time they congregated in one room. It was a pleasant kind of day, the sun was shining, and even though we're on a tropical island, summer feels like it's just around the corner and I found myself humming as I loaded the dishwasher. 

"What are you humming?" Alan asked. 

"Huh? Oh, Erm…" I hummed a couple of bars again, trying to actually place the song. "Summer Lovin' from Grease."

"Oh," he turned away, no longer interested, "don't know it."

"Woah! Wait a second! Back up, buttercup. You don't know Grease?" 

He shrugged. "Nope."

"The musical?" 

He shook his head. 

"It's a classic! That's it, we're watching it later, no arguments!" 

He groaned. "Do we have to? Last time you told me we just had to watch something we ended up watching that film with the guys who zapped ghosts with laser backpacks."

"Ghostbusters, you cretin! And we're still watching it."

"Watching what?" Scott asked, coming in to claim another bacon sandwich. 

"Some old movie about Greece, probably got Hercules in it."

"Grease, you heathen, it's a musical!" 

"I love that movie, it's my favourite."

Alan rolled his eyes at his oldest brother. "You're both weird."

That declaration didn't deter us and three hours later we were all assembled around the holoprojector and ready to watch the magic that is Grease. Even John had been coaxed in and was happily munching from a bowl of popcorn.

Alan didn't look impressed with the fashions or the style of the movie but he continued to watch. Grease is one of those movies that you just cannot help but sing along to, and since I'd been humming it as soon as Summer Lovin' came on I joined in, earning myself a snort of amusement from the youngest who was judging me so hard right at that moment. Ha! He had no idea what was about to hit him. 

We watched as Sandy and Danny reunited and Danny, trying to save face, annoyed Sandy with his attitude. 

"Well, he's a bit of an idiot isn't he?" Alan remarked. 

I exchanged a sneaky look with Scott who grinned and winked back, then he turned to Virgil, who nodded in agreement. Gordon caught the looks and sat up straighter, even Jeff seemed to know what was coming. Alan remained oblivious. 

The opening bars started and all of us jumped to our feet and assembled around the coffee table. 

"Why this car is automatic  
It's systematic  
It's hydromatic  
Why it's greased lightnin'!" 

We all sang at the tops of our voices, managing a pretty synchronised dance. I have to say, we're all quite proud of ourselves. Even John, with only a few protest huffs, allowed himself to be dragged up for the chorus. 

"Go, grease lightnin', you're burnin' up the quarter mile…" 

Arms were swooshed. 

"Go, grease lightnin', you're coastin' through the heat lap trials…"

Fists were pumped, hips were thrust… I heard Jeff singing along too and we all had a brilliant time. 

I made everyone follow my moves as I taught them all to hand jive, even Kayo joined in, Grandma already knew the moves and insisted on standing up to better show off her dance skills. 

By the time we got to the car race even Alan was into it. He didn't know any of the lyrics but soon his feet were tapping along to the songs. 

The finale was coming and as it's one of my favourite songs I demanded a dance and singing partner, John refused but once again Scott came to my rescue. 

We were all singing along with the finale though most of us managed to mess up the words and we all dissolved into giggles by the end. 

"Ok, I admit it, that wasn't too terrible," Alan allowed, stealing the popcorn bowl. 

"That was lovely to see again," Grandma smiled, flicking off the stream. "We should do this every night, have a little sing song, just like they did in the old days."

"Sure, Grandma, we can all pick our favourite movie," Virgil grinned, clearly loving life right now. He had music, he had snacks and he got to dance. 

"You can pick the next one since it was your idea, Mother,"Jeff offered. 

"Yeah, what's your favourite, Grandma?" Gordon asked. 

"The Rocky Horror Picture Show," she announced proudly. 

Jeff choked on his coffee. 

"Please say we aren't dressing up," Gordon begged. 

"We so should!" I threw in, just to stir the pot. 

"A Horror musical? Count me in!" Alan grinned. "Can I be a zombie?" 

John snorted in amusement. 

"What's so funny?" Alan demanded to know. 

"Nothing, Al," Virgil laughed. "Just wait until tomorrow, you'll love it."


	25. Day 25

Day 25 of isolation on Tracy Island and Alan wanted cookies. 

"Pleeeeease," he begged me. "Please, you make the best cookies."

"Urghhh really?" my book was soooo good and I was so comfortable. Moving was not on the agenda for at least another hour. I had my coffee right there, a comfy John lap to rest my head on, why would he do this to me? No way, I wasn't moving. I could be firm. I could say no. 

"You know you love me," he wheeled, giving me his best puppy eyes.

I clamped my hands over my eyes. 

"No! I'm not looking!" 

"Please?" 

"Oh for the love of...fine!" I tossed my book onto the coffee table and hauled myself upright. 

"Weak," John muttered, moving his own book out of the way before I headbutted it. 

"What was that?" 

"You're weak. Totally whipped."

"It's all your fault!" 

"How did you work that out?" spaceman looked shocked and hurt. I knew he was faking it. 

"He's your brother, that's how." I left with that parting shot, I've learnt it's best never to give any of them the chance to argue. Alan trailed after me, wanting his cookies. 

"Bring me some cookies," John yelled after me, then picked up my mug and drank my coffee. I'd get him back later. 

Alan is actually pretty good at helping in the kitchen, he follows orders quite well if no one else is in there to distract him. 

He fetched all the ingredients, helped me measure them all out and mix them, then happily rolled them into balls, placing them carefully on the baking sheet. 

He vanished after the first batch came out, taking the whole tray with him. Luckily I was wise to his ways by now and had mixed up three times the amount I would for a normal batch. It didn't matter how many I made, they would be gone in a day anyway. 

I continued on my own, rolling and baking, setting them aside to cool until I'd worked my way through the whole bowl. I was just getting the last batch out when Grandma popped her head around the door. 

"Are you done? We're putting the movie on."

"Movie? Oh, yes! I'm so there." I'd forgotten all about the movie she had chosen. I took half the cookies with me along with a 6 pinter of milk and headed up to the lounge. 

I flopped down next to Gordon because John had been mean earlier and I still hadn't forgiven him. Immediately hands shot out from all directions, snatching at the cookies like Smeagol with a ring, my precious ones…

"Everyone ready? Grandma was practically bouncing with excitement. Scott finished pouring milk for everyone then nodded. 

Alan watched expectantly, obviously picturing zombies, vampires, maybe a werewolf or two. His face was a picture when a pair of big red lips popped up and started singing. 

"Michael Rennie was ill  
The Day the Earth Stood Still  
But he told us where we stand  
And Flash Gordon was there  
In silver underwear  
Claude Rains was The Invisible Man  
Then something went wrong  
For Fay Wray and King Kong  
They got caught in a celluloid jam  
Then at a deadly pace  
It Came From Outer Space  
And this is how the message ran…"

"What…what the heck is this?" 

"Science fiction…" we all sang as one. "Double feature."

"That's so creepy!"

"Dr X…" we all oooed in sync. 

"Who's Dr X?" 

"Will build a creature…"

"What creature?" 

"At the late night, double feature, picture show!" 

"I want to leave."

"Sit, it's family time," Jeff grinned evilly. 

"This is worse than Grease," Alan groaned as we all jumped to the left, then stepped to the right. 

"With your hands on your hips!" we all followed. 

"You bring your knees in tight."

"Stop thrusting!" Alan screamed in horror as we all did the pelvic thrust and moved smoothly into the arm motions. 

"Let's do the Time Warp again!" 

"Please don't!" 

"Why is he only wearing gold underwear?" Alan asked, "isn't he cold?" 

"That's Rocky, he's a creature," Scott answered, dunking a cookie. 

"I'm so confused," Alan whined. "Who's the biker guy? Why doesn't he love his Teddy?" 

"Eddie, he's a no good kid," Virgil informed him. 

"Why has the one in the heels got that pickaxe?" 

"Frankenfurter, and he hates him," I topped up Alan's milk for him as he was in that moment where he didn't want to watch but was too scared to look away and do it himself. 

"He killed him!" 

"Yep," we all nodded, eyes glued to the screen. 

"Ewww," Alan's hands were firmly over his eyes, "she was supposed to be the good one, the innocent one. Now she's singing about the one in the gold pants!" 

Poor Alan yelped and groaned his way through the rest of the movie, hardly daring to look. He was sat on the couch, his eyes glazed, jaw slack. 

"Allie, you OK?" I asked. 

He didn't respond, remaining almost catatonic, I swear I saw him rocking at one point. 

"Alan?" Jeff called. Finally he blinked and moved. 

"So they were aliens?" 

"Yep," I nodded. 

"That was so weird. I'm scarred for life. I'll never get some of those images out of my head."

Gordon laughed, slapping him on the back as he got up, needing the bathroom. 

"Don't worry, bro, it's my pick tomorrow."

"I shudder to think what that could be," Alan groaned. "What is it?" 

Gordon stuck his head back around the door. 

"Mamma Mia!"


	26. Day 26

Day 26 of isolation on Tracy Island and I walked into the lounge to see the weirdest thing. 

"Why is there a pile of blankets on the floor?" 

No one answered me. 

"Why are there no cushions on the couches?" 

Still no answer. I gave up and headed to the kitchen for breakfast. Jeff was banging around in the store room and muttering to himself. I stuck my head in to see if I could help with anything. 

"Why do we not have any Sugar Smacks?" 

I frowned. "Never heard of them."

"You must have, they're the only cereal I like."

"When was the last time you had some?" I asked, because I'm telling you all, I've never seen those buggers on the shelves at Tesco. 

He thought about it. "It's been a few years," he grudgingly admitted. 

"Want one of John's bagels instead? You can blame it on me if he gets mad about it."

We were both munching bagels when Virgil wandered in looking for nourishment. 

"Is there any food ready?

"Nope, sorry."

If I thought Alan's pouty face was bad it was nothing compared to his. 

"What do you want?" I groaned, giving in and getting to my feet. 

"Anything with eggs, surprise me," he grinned, stealing my seat. 

I give in to these guys way too easily. Maybe John's right, maybe I am weak. Not that I'd ever admit that to him. 

"Cheese omelette?" 

Virgil nodded happily. 

"I'll have one too, please," he of the missing sugar smacks chipped in. 

"You might as well ask the others if they want feeding too," I sighed, fetching the eggs. 

Once everyone was sated it occurred to me that I had two plates left over. 

"Where are the smalls?" 

Everyone looked around, as if the terrible two would magically appear. 

Concerned, we went on a hunt. 

The big pile of blankets in the lounge were no longer on the floor, but that was because they were draped over various pieces of furniture, including max who was holding two corners aloft, a full set of dining chairs, two floor lamps and a clothes airer. They had shoved the coffee table to one side of the sunken seating area and arranged the chairs behind a couch and the two bucket seats that went to Three's hanger and used the airer to prop up the middle and another two chairs to act as side walls.

Alan's head popped out of the Fort they had made, grinning proudly. 

"We made a cinema. We're watching the movie in here today."

"In there?" Jeff looked dubious. 

"In here," Grandma insisted, sticking her head out. 

"We got comfy pillows," Gordon wheeled as if to sweeten the deal. 

"OK, but you two need to go eat first, it's in the kitchen, then we'll watch."

They went off to get their plates while Jeff joined Grandma in the bucket seats. It was a bit snug in there but they had done their best and there was a nice selection of drinks already provided so I pulled up a pillow and got comfy. 

"Budge over," Scott demanded, shoving his way in behind me to stake out a spot on the couch, Kayo crawling in after him. 

I moved over to give them some room. 

"We aren't all going to fit in here," Virgil grumbled, turning sideways to fit through the opening. 

A knock sounded on the floor outside the tent flaps and I lifted the edge of a blanket in invitation. John squeezed in. 

"Did you seriously just knock?" I had to ask even though it was obvious he had. 

He shrugged, poking me until I moved over on my pillow to make room for him to settle in too. 

"Brains isn't coming, he said he doesn't like this movie," John told us as he got comfy. 

"Brains barely likes any movie that isn't based on a true story and historically accurate," Scott laughed. 

Gordon and Alan clattered back into the lounge, having had their hasty meal, Alan still with a slice of toast hanging out of his mouth. Gordon set to work pulling back and securing the door flaps to allow us to see the hologram projecting from the center of the coffee table. 

Gordon squeezed on the couch beside Kayo, sandwiching her between himself and Scott. Alan stretched out on his belly in front of us. 

"Ready?" Gordon asked, bouncing excitedly. 

"Ready!" we all chroused in answer. 

"So she doesn't know who her dad is?" Alan asked. 

"Nope, could be any of those three," Gordon told him. 

The first song started and a couple of us hummed along, singing a few lines but honestly it wasn't one of my favourites, they were coming later. 

"That place needs some serious work."

"Bit dilapidated, isn't it?" I agreed, leaning back to use Scott's legs as a backrest. 

"She's not going to be happy once she sees them," Alan warned, clearly more engrossed with this movie than the two before. 

The mother on the screen sang her way around her property, then suddenly spotted her three former flames. 

"Oh! I actually know this song!" Alan cheered. 

"I should hope so, everyone knows ABBA songs, it's a right of passage. It's like The Beatles, everyone is born knowing the lyrics to all their songs, they are passed down from mother to child in the womb, they should be called The Featles," I informed him, joining in with the rest of the family who were singing along. 

"Just one look and I can hear a bell ring  
One more look and I forget everything…"

We all 'woahed' in harmony then continued. 

"Mamma mia, here I go again  
My my, how can I resist you?  
Mamma mia, does it show again?  
My my, just how much I've missed you  
Yes, I've been brokenhearted  
Blue since the day we parted  
Why, why did I ever let you go?  
Mamma mia, now I really know  
My my, I could never let you go."

"Oh, I do love these songs," Grandma sighed happily as we stopped singing and continued watching. 

We watched as the daughter tried to get to know all her potential fathers, barely survived her bachelorette party and still didn't know who was going to give her away. Her mother was getting close to one of the potential fathers but discovered that he left her all those years ago to get married. One of the mother's friends got her flirt on with a young man while the other had her eye on one of the fathers. 

"I'm really confused," Alan whispered to me. 

"It won't be the last time either," I said, giving him a sympathetic hug. 

We all watched quietly as the mother confessed that she still loved one of the dads and sings of the pain of losing him. I heard a quiet sniffling noise beside me and snuck Virgil a tissue. He's such a romantic idiot at heart. 

"I've got something in my eye," Gordon muttered, reaching for a tissue of his own. 

By the time the wedding day dawned everyone on screen was ready for it to be over and so was I, my butt had fallen asleep two songs ago and now it was numb, unaccustomed to sitting on the floor for so long. 

"What? They aren't getting married now?" Alan yelled, kicking a pillow in frustration. "That's ridiculous! What's the point then? I'm so confused! What is everyone going to do, just go home?" 

"It won't be wasted," John promised him. 

"What? Who? THEM?" Alan goggled. "They're getting married now?" 

"Yep," Scott nodded. 

Everyone was shifting restlessly by the end of the reception scene and the one that followed. It had been a nice movie but the novelty of sitting squashed on the floor had definitely worn off. 

We all unfolded ourselves and crawled out, a chorus of groans echoing as we all stretched our aching bodies. 

"Wait one second," Alan started and we all stopped to look at him. 

"So we still don't know who the dad is?" 

Jeff shook his head. 

"What was the point then?" 

"It's just a nice film, Allie," Scott ruffled his hair. 

"I'M SO CONFUSED!"


	27. Day 27

Day 27 of isolation on Tracy Island and I can't believe that I spent so long this morning convincing grown adults that crumpets are not evil. They are breakfast elite for me. I love crumpets, the oozy, buttery joy of them, toasted to perfection. If they are as wrong as they claim, then I don't want to be right. 

You can tell I was bored because I found it hilariously funny to see them pick up the round slabs of goodness, examine them from every angle, poke at them with the butter knife and generally grump their way through their first bites (those that were brave enough of course). 

Their faces were a picture as they rolled them around their mouths, trying to decide if the texture and general make up of a crumpet was good or bad. 

Scott liked them, Gordon did too, John's undecided, but Virgil and Alan think they are evil. More for me then. They were like this with Yorkshire puddings, there's just no educating some people. 

Today is John's turn to pick a musical, and as soon as he said it I wasn't at all surprised. 

"What are you torturing me with today?" Alan asked. 

We all got settled in the sunken seating, snacks and drinks at the ready and waited expectantly for the answer. Jeff, Kayo and Brains declined to join us but Grandma, who really seemed to be loving this extended trip down memory lane we were taking, was already seated. 

"Phantom of the Opera."

Scott snorted in amusement. "Figures."

"I should have guessed," Virgil laughed. 

John didn't dignify that with a response. 

"Why? What's it about?" Alan wanted to know. "Has it got a ghost? It sounds like it's got a ghost in it. I'm not a big fan of ghosts."

"You'll see," was the only answer he got. 

The movie started with an auction taking place outside a run down looking theater. Two people were bidding on one item, both determined to get it. 

"Well that's not the creepiest thing I've ever seen," Alan commented.

"Yeah, I'm not a fan of those little clapping monkey things. People wonder why Victorian children always haunt places, that's why, because their parents were giving them those things," I shuddered in revulsion. Ewww. 

The film wound back fifty years to show the theater at the height of its popularity and things aren't going well. The manager is leaving, and the star refuses to perform because the 'Opera Ghost' has been tormenting them for three years and she's had enough. Quite frankly I don't blame her. 

"There's catacombs under there? What's wrong with people? Why build a theatre there?" Alan asked. 

"There's Catacombs under almost the entirety of Paris, they stretch for miles, it's amazing," I told him. 

"Yeah, if you count the bones of thousands of people arranged in tunnels as amazing," Gordon scoffed. 

"I do," I sniffed, feeling slightly attacked. 

On screen the beautiful young Christine was drafted in to take on the role of the lead, astounding everyone with her spectacular voice, the talent to which she credits her secret music lessons with "The Angel of Music." 

"There's an Angel now?" Alan groaned, quickly losing interest in the whole thing. 

Christine's old flame comes back but doesn't believe her when she says a mysterious voice that comes from the walls has been helping her. 

"Stalker," Gordon coughed. 

"In sleep he sang to me  
In dreams he came  
That voice that calls to me and speaks my name  
And do I dream again for now I find  
The Phantom of the Opera is there  
Inside my mind" 

The phantom spirited Christine away to his lair and I couldn't help singing along, although I almost died of shock when John joined in. All the Tracy's have a gift of music in some form or another but it's only Virgil that really shows it off, although Gordon and Scott will quite often pick up a guitar for a little strum or impromptu request session. Alan is still in that stage where he refuses to embarrass himself in any way, shape or form beyond his natural dumbness that is standard. 

"Why are there hands holding candle sticks?" Gordon asked. 

"Sing once again with me  
Our strange duet  
My power over you grows stronger yet  
And though you turn from me to glance behind  
The Phantom of the Opera is there  
Inside your mind" 

"Why is there a horse down there?" Alan yelled above my warbling (a great singer I am not but I am enthusiastic). We ignored him. 

"Those who have seen your face  
Draw back in fear  
I am the mask you wear" 

"It's me they hear." 

"How are lit candles coming out of the water?" 

I gave up before Christine started to really wail, I already sounded like a cat with its tail stuck in a garage door, no one needed to hear my attempt at notes only dogs could hear. 

Christine took off the Phantom's mask and he recoiled in horror, taking the mask and returning her to the theatre in time for the performance, ordering the managers to give her the lead but they refused. That leaves him with no choice but to take matters into his own hands, sabotaging the lead and hanging a stagehand above the stage. 

Christine and her old flame, Raoul flee to the roof where they declare their love for each other. Unfortunately, ol' Phantom face overhears and vows revenge. 

What follows is a bit of a mish mash of murder, engagement parties, kidnap and the spilling of secrets and tragic back story, a stolen engagement ring, an angry mob and a smashed chandelier, all of which I personally loved but I think the two youngest found a bit hard to appreciate. 

Raoul finds Christine in the catacombs wearing a home made (apparently the Phantom has had time to perfect his dressmaking skills) wedding dress and looking like she'd rather be anywhere but there. 

The Phantom threatens to kill his rival unless she agrees to marry him and, in a bid to save her love, she kisses the Phantom allowing Raoul to escape. The Phantom realises that she doesn't love him and let's her go, crying on his own with the creepy music box and her ring which she, for some reason best known to herself, thought would be a comfort to him. 

"Why would he want a ring that another guy gave his woman?" Alan asked, clearly as confused by this as he was Rocky Horror and Mamma Mia. 

We all shrugged, honestly we didn't have a clue either. 

The mob descends on his hideout and he vanishes into the darkness. 

Back in the present day we see Roaul visit Christine's grave and leave the music box there for her but, just as he's leaving he sees a fresh red rose there, implying that the Phantom is still alive and still loves her. 

"I always felt sorry for the Phantom," I mused. "I mean, he is clearly the better choice."

"He killed people," Virgil pointed out but that didn't put me off. 

"But he loves her and he understands her. Roaul has just rocked up after years and decided that he does quite like her after all, but he's not going to believe her or support her in any real way. She's a trophy and he only seems to want her once he hears that the Phantom has his eye on her. But unfair really."

They all looked at me like I was crazy, but I'm used to that by now. 

"So is that it?" Alan asked, clearly feeling cheated out of something. "That's the whole thing?" 

"Yep," Scott clicked off the screen. 

"So it's a musical about an antisocial hermit that has taken social distancing to the extreme, who is hiding out in the walls of a theater just wanting to be left alone but has to keep coming up now and then to sort out other people's messes?" 

We thought about this for a second, then nodded. 

"So he's John?" 

Alan didn't see the smack coming but he certainly felt it.


	28. Day 28

Day 28 of isolation on Tracy Island and I am refusing to cook breakfast or do anything for anyone. These menfolk are getting far too lazy and I deserve some pampering. 

I started out with a nice relaxing bubble bath. Well, it should have been a nice, relaxing and QUIET bubble bath. Unfortunately there are so many people in this house that there is almost always noise and always someone rampaging around. So I got sneaky and decided the best place to have a few moments to myself was out of the villa entirely. 

The bathroom in the Round House is quite nice, not as luxurious as the ones in the main house but good enough for what I wanted, which was a chance to read my book in peace. I was planning on staying there until I became a human prune. 

My peace lasted all of ten minutes. Ten minutes before my phone beeped with a text. 

Alan: Have you seen my tennis racket? No one else will answer me. 

I rolled my eyes and text back : It was under the coffee table last time I saw it. 

Two minutes later another text popped up. 

Alan: Got it! Thanks. 

"That's that then," I thought to myself, putting my phone down on the floor. 

Three minutes! Three whole minutes of quiet and my phone beeped again. Growling I snatched it up. 

Scott: Can I eat your chocolate? 

I text back :Eat whatever you want! Eat Gordon for all I care! 

Scott : He's too chewy. 

I dropped the phone back on the floor. 

It immediately beeped again. 

Gordon : DID YOU TELL SCOTT HE COULD EAT ME? 

I ignored it. 

Exactly seven minutes and twenty-eight seconds later and there was a knock on the door. 

"What now?" I yelled, almost dropping my book in shock. 

"Why are you in there?" John asked from outside. 

"It's called a bath, you get in it to wash." 

I could practically feel the strength of his eye roll through the closed door. 

"I meant in this particular bathroom." 

"Peace, something none of you seem to know the meaning of."

"I know the meaning of peace!" 

"Then why are you still outside the door?" 

"Because they are driving me crazy but Virgil won't let me leave because it's his turn to pick the movie." 

"So you thought you'd come and drive me crazy instead?"

"Yep." 

My phone started ringing, a picture of Virgil popping up on the screen. Huffing I grabbed for it. 

"Yes?" 

"Can you tell John to answer his phone?" 

I didn't dignify that with an answer, I just hung up, tossing the phone onto the pile of fluffy towels on the floor. 

"Virg says to answer your phone." 

"Maybe later." 

I gave in and started shampooing my hair, there was no way I was going to get any more alone time now. 

"Do you want some lunch?" he called through the door, although he sounded a little weird. 

"Are you sitting down out there?" 

"Well, yeah. You're taking a really long time."

I declined to comment on that either. "Is this a you make lunch offer or one where you're hungry and get me to make it for both of us?" 

"Which would you prefer?" 

I dunked my head under the shower to rinse off, then got out to dry and dress. 

"You make lunch, then I'll come out," 

I heard him get to his feet and wander off so I took the time to dry my hair before I opened the door, there was no way I was coming out any sooner to get roped into helping with food preparation. I'm not as dumb as I look. 

We managed just over an hour of quiet for lunch before we were summoned to the lounge for movie time. 

***

"What are we watching then?" I asked, making myself comfy on a couch between John and Scott. 

"It's my pick tonight," Virgil grinned, "and we're watching the epic Les Miserables."

I squeaked in excitement, practically bouncing. "My favourite! Oh, oh, I love this one so much! Let me up, I need to be free!" They moved aside so I could scramble to my feet. 

"What is it about?" Alan asked, clearly doubting our sanity after the first few picks. 

"It's a love story set during the French revolution," Scott filled in for him. 

"I've not seen it before either, so it's a first for me too," Gordon settled down in one of the bucket seats. 

Virgil hit play and took a seat on the next couch and I joined him. I had a feeling we'd both need the room.

The opening bars started and we were right there with them, both of us singing along with the men as they hauled a huge ship into its dock, all singing. 

"Look down, look down  
Don't look 'em in the eye  
Look down, look down,  
You're here until you die…" 

"Someone's dying?" Alan sat up straighter, obviously death and destruction was the thing to catch his interest. 

"Now prisoner 24601  
Your time is up and your parole's begun  
You know what that means…  
Yes, it means I'm free!" 

Virgil and I were loving it, he was doing an awesome Valjean while I took on the role of Javert. 

We watched as Valjean was released and journeyed across the countryside looking for work but finding none. Hungry and weak a bishop takes pity on him and invites him in, but Valjean repays him by stealing the church's silver. 

"Well that's not nice," Gordon muttered. 

We watched as Valjean was caught and dragged back but to Gordon and Alan's surprise the bishop backed up the story that he had given him the silver as a gift, telling him that he was to take the silver and do some good with it. 

The film moved forward eight years and we watched as Valjean, now a successful factory owner and Mayor of the town thanks to the silver, meets with Javert, who had never forgotten the prisoner that had broken parole and thinks he recognises Valjean. The factory workers began to pick on a young woman who ends up getting fired. Desperate to earn money to support her child, she turned to the only option she had. 

"Are they…?" Alan trailed off. 

"Ladies of the night?" Gordon filled in for him. 

Fantine, having sold her hair, her jewellery, her teeth and herself, burst into one of the most iconic songs of the movie. 

"Hey! I know this one!" Alan grinned. 

Virgil and I didn't join in with this one, it was too special, we just sat there letting the music wash over us, taking in the heartbreak of her words and situation. We all watched in silence as Fantine died and Valjean went to collect her daughter, Cosette, once again escaping Javert who now knows that Valjean is 24601. 

We both sang along as the movie slipped forward again and we were dumped at the beginning of the revolution. 

"Look down and see the beggars at your feet  
Look down and show some mercy if you can  
Look down and see the sweepings of the street  
Look down, look down,  
Upon your fellow man!" 

"Who's that little kid?" Alan asked. 

"'Ow do you do? My name's Gavroche.  
These are my people. Here's my patch." 

"Never mind."

"We live on crumbs of humble piety  
Tough on the teeth, but what the hell!  
Think you're poor?  
Think you're free?  
Follow me! Follow me!" 

Cosette and Marius, a member of the revolution, had their classic meet cute moment, falling instantly in love, much to the upset of Epionine, who is desperately in love with him herself. 

The revolutionaries made their plans, teasing Marius about his distraction over the beautiful Cosette, when Gavroche burst in to tell them that their only sympathiser in the government was dead. 

A new day dawned and along with it came the start of the revolution. Virgil and I jumped to our feet, this song needing to be sung in the most dramatic way possible with the biggest arm motions. Everyone rolled their eyes at us but we didn't care. 

"Do you hear the people sing?  
Singing the songs of angry men?  
It is the music of the people  
Who will not be slaves again!  
When the beating of your heart  
Echoes the beating of the drums  
There is a life about to start  
When tomorrow comes!" 

We dragged the few that vaguely knew the song, Grandma, John and Scott, to their feet and forced them to join in with us. Virgil yanked off his plaid and started waving it enthusiastically like a flag. 

"Will you join in our crusade?  
Who will be strong and stand with me?  
Somewhere beyond the barricade  
Is there a world you long to see?  
Then join in the fight  
That will give you the right to be free!" 

"This is epic!" Alan screamed, jumping up to march on the spot with us. 

"Who will not be slaves again!  
When the beating of your heart  
Echoes the beating of the drums  
There is a life about to start  
When tomorrow comes!" 

Virgil gave me a sleeve of his shirt and we waved it together like a banner. 

"Will you give all you can give  
So that our banner may advance  
Some will fall and some will live  
Will you stand up and take your chance?  
The blood of the martyrs  
Will water the meadows of France!"

"Come on, Gordo, you're the only one left sitting!" Alan, who apparently hated musicals, yelled. Gordon reluctantly got up. 

"Do you hear the people sing?  
Singing the songs of angry men?  
It is the music of the people  
Who will not be slaves again!  
When the beating of your heart  
Echoes the beating of the drums  
There is a life about to start  
When tomorrow comes!" 

We sang our way through the building of the barricade, cried with Epionine as she sang about losing her love and being on her own but still helps Marius to meet with Cosette. Valjean, realising that his adopted daughter is in love with someone who might possibly die, runs to help. 

Javert, posing as a member of the revolution, infiltrates the barricades but is exposed as a police officer and captured. 

I started crying again when Epionine dived in front of Marius to save him, taking the bullet for him and died in his arms. 

Valjean warned them of a sniper on the roof and offers to execute Jarvet.

"Wow, this is intense," Alan whispered, his eyes glued to the screen. 

Valjean, instead of executing Javert, spares his life and lets him go. Come the dawn the battle begins in earnest, but the barricade boys are outnumbered, out armed and running out of gunpowder. 

We had to pause to explain to Gordon and Alan what gunpowder even was and how guns worked back then, so they understood just how important it was. They both cheered when little Gavroche snuck his way through the piles of furniture, metal and wood that made up the barricade but soon watched in horror as the guards shot him dead. 

Virgil and I held hands as the fighting grew more intense, knowing what was coming. 

"No!" Gordon and Alan yelled as one by one every barricade boy was killed. 

"How are they dead? They should have won!" 

We watched as Valjean carried a badly injured Marius through the sewers to safety only to be stopped by Jarvet. 

Jarvet, in an act of redemption, let's them go and, unable to live with all he had done, his world and beliefs turned upside down, kills himself. 

Valjean saves Marius and delivers him into the arms of Cosette but, not knowing that Javert is dead, Valjean leaves, worried his secret would get out. 

Marius and Cosette marry but at the reception they find out that Valjean was the one to save his life and track him down. Valjean, now deathly ill himself, manages to say his final goodbyes. 

I knew what was coming yet I still wasn't prepared for it as Valjean slipped away, guided by Fantine to join the revolution and the barricade boys in the spirit realm. 

I was in tears, sobbing on Virgil's shoulder and trying not to snot in his shirt. Honestly, I was a mess and I don't mind admitting it. 

I glanced over and saw Gordon and Alan sneakily wiping at their eyes too, along with Grandma. 

John handed me a tissue and opened his arms so I could sob on him instead. 

"It's so beautiful!" I wailed, clinging tight. "They all believe in it so much, and he tried so hard to be good, and I even like Javert!" 

Virgil switched off the screen before I saw anything else that made my hysterics worse. 

"So," he asked the youngest. "Did we finally find a musical that you liked?" 

We all waited with bated breath for his verdict. 

"I want to watch it again!"


	29. Day 29

Day 29 of isolation on Tracy Island and I'm beginning to regret my life choices. 

Picture the scene. I was innocently wandering, minding my own business, in search of a shady place to settle down and read my book, with nothing but the relaxing sound of the ocean for company...

A window somewhere up in the villa crashed open, shattering the peace as someone screamed at the top of their lungs. 

"CANNONS!" 

"Gahhh," I squeaked in shock, spinning round to see who was attacking. My foot slipped on a wet towel that had been left on the side of the pool and as if in slow motion I skidded sideways and went headfirst into the deep end. 

I flailed and flopped my way upwards and came spluttering to the surface, managing to tread water as I swiped the wet hair back from my face. 

"What the bloody hell was that?" I yelled, splashing my way towards the side of the pool. 

I looked up to see a head vanish from the window. 

"Gordon Tracy you are a menace to society!" I screamed up at him. "Someone help me out!" 

It was Virgil who dragged me out and got me a towel. 

"Why did we show them Les Mis? How dumb are we?" I sighed. "We should have been more careful. We should know them better than this."

"Everything is dangerous with those two, they can turn anything into trouble. If we stopped them watching everything that could influence them we'd never watch anything again."

"True," I acknowledged, "urghhh, I need to go dry off. I'm just glad I didn't have my phone in my pocket."

Honestly, those two had been a nightmare the whole night after they watched our last musical offering. They had managed to pick up key phrases and moments and had taken to blurting them out at random moments. 

I'd been rudely awoken by Alan banging on the bedroom door shouting, "You at the barricades, listen to this!" And they wonder why I lock the door at night...

Gordon had walked into the kitchen late and, finding himself all alone, and more importantly to him, most of the breakfast offerings already eaten, had begun to mournfully sing,"Empty chairs at empty tables."

Alan had tried to get John to help programme in some new code to one of his games but when he was told he'd have to wait until later, had begun to bug him with random video messages. In each one he was singing "One more day all on my own. One more day with him not caring." 

Gordon had annoyed Scott by loitering around in One's hanger where Scott was helping with some maintenance, waited until he dropped a spanner from high up on the nose cone, then yelled "We need as much furniture as you can throw down!" 

But this last one had gone too far, I do not like suddenly finding myself soaking wet, especially not from an unplanned dip in the pool. They were just lucky real witches don't melt. 

"Just be grateful they aren't dressing in fishnets and inviting us to see what's on their slab," V reminded me. I shuddered at that mental picture. 

"They're going to be impossible to live with, aren't they?" 

"More than they already are? Probably. But luckily for us they get bored easily. We just gotta wait it out. Not like we haven't got the time."

That sounded like a solid plan to me, and so far it's working well. I've been hiding out in this Pod for the past three hours. The WiFi reception is terrible, but I've got access to Virgil's secret snack stash, I've got two cans of Cherry Coke and a damp book from its plunge into the pool, and it's quiet. And at the moment that's all I need. Maybe if I stay here long enough someone else will cook dinner.


	30. Day 30

Day 30 of isolation on Tracy Island and I got woken up by the biggest bang you could imagine. I honestly felt like the world, or possibly just the ceiling, was caving in. Now, here on the Island, it's not unheard of for things to spontaneously combust, explode, burst into flames or sometimes just melt into a puddle on the floor. 

I didn't move for a while, I mean, they deal with that sort of thing every day, so there wasn't much I could do other than get in the way. They got this…

My phone began to ring, I groaned and stuck my head under my pillow, trying to drown it out. It didn't work. Couldn't a girl even have a lie-in in peace any more?

Huffing I picked it up, sitting up when I saw who was calling. 

"Hey, Grandma, what's up?" 

"Are you awake?" 

"Erm…Yeah, I just answered the phone."

"Oh, of course."

"Did you need someth-" my words were drowned out by the loud wailing of the fire alarm. 

"I'm on my way!" I leapt out of bed, grabbed the first thing to hand to cover my nightie and raced out of the sleeping quarters, following my phone's directions to find Grandma's. 

"Laundry room? What the heck?" 

I crashed through the door and stopped dead in disbelief as smoke billowed out in noxious plumes. I coughed, waving it away from my face. 

"Grandma? You in there?" 

I heard a shuffling noise and a cough before she emerged. 

"What happened? Are you OK?" 

"I may have turned it up too high…"

"Turned what up?" Did I have a suspicious tone? I think so. 

We opened the door wider, flapping it back and forth, acting as giant fan. Slowly the smoke cleared and I could peek inside. 

"Is that the dryer?" I should have said 'was' because all I saw was a buckled, formerly white but now rather charred, metal box, a door hanging off and smoke still pouring out of it. 

"What did you do?" 

"Well, it's been working so well since Brains put that new nuclear heating element in it, it's the same kind he put in the oven, and you know that cooks things so much faster than a conventional one."

"What did you do?" I repeated, although I could hazard a guess. 

"I thought that if I turned the heat up it would dry a bit quicker but I think it might have been a little too high."

"Oh gods, I thought we learnt that higher heat doesn't always equal better after the cookies and One's thrusters incident."

"This was not the same thing," she sniffed indignantly. 

I crouched down to look inside, seeing the blackened pile of rags that had once been clothes. "Oh dear, that doesn't look good. You know, there's this new fangled invention called a washing line, it's great when the sun's shining, which it pretty much always is here."

"Less of your cheek, young lady, I know what a clothes line is."

"Sorry, Grandma."

She sighed, looking at the mass of twisted metal and smouldering wiring that had been the dryer. "I thought technology was supposed to make things easier."

She looked so put out that I didn't have the heart to say anything else. She'd learnt her lesson. 

"OK, I think we'll need backup, where is everyone?" 

She thought for a moment. "Jeff and Brains are in the lab going over the plans for that new pod vehicle. Scott, Alan and Gordon got up early and are out on the boat, you know how they are about their fishing. John said he wanted to do an upgrade on the comms lines, so he's up on Five for a few hours and Virgil is in his studio I think."

"Good, that's all I needed to know. Just let me make a quick call."

I stepped out of the room and dialed, waiting for him to answer. 

"Hey, muscles, you're needed." 

***

We pegged out another pair of shorts, pausing when we heard a voice behind us. 

"What are you two doing? Where did this come from?" Jeff asked, staring at what had once been a grappling line, now strung between two sturdy palm trees, a line of clothes flapping happily in the breeze. 

"We're dancing the cha cha," Grandma sniffed. "What does it look like we're doing?" 

Jeff wisely back off, his hands up in surrender. He's a smart man, he knows that it's us women that really run this joint. 

"Don't you usually use the dryer, Grandma?" Scott asked innocently. Grandma's eyes narrowed dangerously and I stepped in before he could say anything else and earn himself a clip round the ear. 

"We're trying to do our bit, you know, be more environmentally friendly."

Grandma caught on quickly. "All this nuclear power isn't good, I keep telling Brains that it could be dangerous. I'd rather do things the old fashioned way."

Scott shrugged, not wanting to get involved with the craziness of the females of the house, and made a quick exit. I followed, leaving Grandma to it. 

Virgil, who had overheard our little speech, gave me a wink. I lifted my hand and accepted his high five as I passed by. 

No one would ever know that somewhere, hidden deep in the scrap pile on Mateo Island, there sits a very broken dryer. No one needs to know how much we swore while getting it there even with the hover dolly. It will forever remain our secret. 

And if anyone wonders where their clothes went, I'm denying all knowledge that they even existed. 

I headed to the kitchen, needing coffee and something in my belly. 

"There you are, everything OK?" John, in his usual sneaky way, was already sitting at the table with a bowl of soup, I hadn't even known he'd come home. 

"Yeah, of course," I fibbed effortlessly, picking a cup and pouring some liquid magic. 

"Are you sure?" 

"Yes, I'm sure," damn him and his all knowing super powers. 

"Really?" 

"Yes! Why do you keep asking?" 

"Because it's midday and you're wearing my dressing gown."

Oh the shame. 

I'm never going to live this horror down. Grandma had better be so grateful.


	31. Day 31

Day 31 of isolation on Tracy Island and it was that time of the month again. No I don't mean the time that I turn into a screaming harpy and eat all the chocolate… OK, I do turn into a screaming harpy for this reason too but I don't eat anything, so I'm calling that a win. No, I'm talking about having to drag my protesting man up to his 'bird to record our podcast 'Live from Five'.

John grumbled, but nowhere near as much as he usually did. I think this was down to the fact that it gave him an excuse to escape for a few hours and get some peace even if it did mean that he was going to be stuck up there with me and no backup.

The fact that we were up there isn't really important, I'm just setting the scene so you know that we had NOTHING to do with what happened while we were off planet. 

We were gone for around four hours, which doesn't seem that long but was apparently long enough for the dumbass to come out in every single Tracy that was left behind. Every. Single. One. 

Apparently the craziness happened when they learnt that Grandma had decided to make chilli for dinner. Now we all know that can be a bad thing, but it can be avoided. The real danger here started when a very bored Gordon decided to dare Scott to try a spoonful. 

As expected it was as foul as they had feared, poor Scott's mouth was simultaneously on fire and tasting like the inside of a bbq. Grandma had somehow managed to burn half of the meat, leave the other half almost raw and mistaken the tsp (teaspoon) measurement with the tbsp (tablespoon) so had dumped in 3 tablespoons worth of chilli powder into the mix, along with the chopped tomatoes and spaghetti sauce. 

Now they had made their Guinea-pig try the muck and he was gagging, fanning his mouth and screaming for a drink, you'd think they would stop there. Oh no, that would be too sensible. 

The geniuses that make up International Rescue decided that the thing to do with this new information was turn it into a chill challenge. 

This involved them all having a large bowl and trying to eat as much as they could, as fast as they could with no drinks allowed. The winner being the one that had eaten the most by the end of five minutes. 

Kayo was drafted in to time them while Jeff was there to ensure that no one cheated. I asked him after why he hadn't stopped them and I'm not sure if his answer of " You can't help stupid," was wise or a cop out. Personally I think he just wanted to watch them be idiots for funsies. 

We entered the villa and were instantly alerted to the drama by the sound of yelling and cheering coming from the kitchen. 

We walked in to find Scott and Alan shoveling the evil concoction into their mouths like they hadn't eaten in a week (which I know is rubbish because they both pilfered some of my toast this morning). Both of them were sweating, gagging between mouthfuls and looked like they wanted to throw up, but they were stubborn, and apparently "Tracy's never quit" so they were soldiering on. 

Virgil and Gordon were standing beside them, apparently acting as cheerleaders, having both picked a side, their own bowls abandoned, probably in favour of preserving their stomachs for the future. 

"Come on, Scott, two more bites!" Virgil encouraged. 

Scott's whole body shuddered in revulsion as he forced down another mouthful. 

"Nearly done, Allie!" Gordon praised. 

Alan, with the confidence of youth, had picked up the bowl and begun to simply tip it into his mouth. 

John grabbed my hand and pulled me out of what could potentially be the splash zone if one of them blew. 

"Why is this even a thing?" I asked no one in particular, honestly I was just talking out loud, I never expected an answer that would make sense and no one tried to provide me with one. 

"Twenty seconds left!" Kayo yelled above the din. 

Scott let out a noise that was halfway between a burp and a retch, his spine bending like a cat trying to cough up a hairball. 

"Oh gods, he's gonna blow!" I grabbed the bin that was in between the two and hovered nearby in case I was needed. By the looks of the bin someone had already made use of it. 

He gulped a few times, trying to gain control of his stomach. His gaze went from me to the bin, to the spoon in his hand and then to Alan and back to his spoon. 

"Scott, no!" 

Like a dog told not to eat something he made the decision and shoved another spoonful into his mouth, chewing frantically. 

Alan, for his part, seemed to have stopped chewing all together and was attempting to gulp it down like it was soup. 

"You're all crazy!" I dropped the bin, threw up my hands in defeat and left them to it. 

"Five seconds!" 

"One more bite, one more bite!" Gordon chanted. 

Alan nodded and tipped the bowl up once more, then froze, an expression of fear and instant regret crossing his face. He grabbed the bin just in time, his head vanishing inside as his abused stomach rebelled and evacuated its contents. 

"Scott wins!" Jeff declared. Scott didn't have time to bask in the glory of his victory, he dropped the spoon and ran out of the room. We heard the bathroom door slam and then the sound of painful retching. 

"We leave you all alone for a few hours and look what happens!" I screamed, unable to believe what I had just witnessed. 

"Were you involved in this?" I demanded to know of Virgil. 

He shrugged. "Kinda."

"You're supposed to be the sensible one!" 

"I am, I only ate three bites. I stopped after Gordo puked." 

"That's not what I meant, " I started to lecture but John stopped me with a squeeze of my hand. 

"It's really not worth your time or energy."

I knew he was right. Shaking my head in utter despair I left them to it, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl for lunch, ignoring the blue sock that was nestled beneath it. It was far from the strangest thing I'd seen that day. 

"Yet people say I'm the insane one for staying in space," John muttered as he followed me. 

What I wouldn't give for a pub to be open right now. 

Send cider!


	32. Day 32

Day 32 of isolation on Tracy Island. 

I thought I'd escaped, but no. The order blasted out through the entire house, making good use of the comms system "If there's time to lean, there's time to clean!" 

I was put in charge of the lounge, which was fine by me, while the others were assigned various rooms and areas of the house. I grabbed my phone, needing some tunes to get me through this and prepared to rock out while I got my clean on. 

You know how it is when you're so deep in your rhythm, the music's pumping and it actually feels good to be moving around, that you don't realise how long you've been at it, nor who else is around? I was at that point of the day. 

"I didn't really mean to hurt you  
I didn't wanna see you go  
I know I made you cry, but baby…" 

I pushed the vacuum back and forth as it munched its way across the rug, using it as a dance partner, giving a hip swivel and some vigorous arm movements. 

"If I could turn back time  
If I could find a way  
I'd take back those words that have hurt you  
And you'd stay  
If I could reach the stars  
I'd give them all to you  
Then you'd love me, love me  
Like you used to do." 

I was lip syncing my way through the song, having a great time, doing a little how low can ya go and a happy little spin. 

It was during that spin that I turned to face behind me and found I was no longer alone. I had two choices, I could stop what I was doing and take the teasing or I could brazen it out and keep going. Me being me, I picked door number two. 

" My world was shattered I was torn apart  
Like someone took a knife and drove it deep in my heart,   
You walked out that door I swore that I didn't care  
But I lost everything darling then and there." 

I live by the motto go big or go home. So I made my arm movements even more dramatic, using a nearby can of polish as a microphone.

"Too strong to tell you I was sorry  
Too proud to tell you I was wrong  
I know that I was blind, and darling…"

Was he sniggering? How dare he! I upped my game, grabbing his hands and forcing him to dance with me by vigorously swinging our arms. 

"Come on, you know the words!" He finally gave in and started to dance with me, miming along to the words. 

"If I could turn back time, if I could find a way  
I'd take back those words that have hurt you, you'd stay." 

I spotted John out of the corner of my eye as he stuck his head in to see what all the laughing was about. The look on his face registered zero surprise to see me forcing Alan to dance with me. 

I swung my arms out wide in invitation. 

"If I could reach the stars  
I'd give 'em all to you  
Then you'd love me, love me, like you used to do!" I sang at him. 

"Nope, I'm out," spaceman declared. 

"If I could turn back time  
If I could find a way  
Then maybe, maybe, maybe  
You'd stay!" Alan and I both sang at his retreating back. 

"Well, he's boring," Alan shrugged as the song came to an end. 

"Don't worry, we'll get him soon," I promised. "We just have to get everyone else on board with the idea of the Tracy Lip Synch Battle."

"I like this plan," he grinned. 

"Why is no one cleaning?" Grandma yelled and we both jumped guiltily. 

"Rain check!" he ran off, leaving me alone to finish my chores. 

Now if I could just figure out why there is a purple sock hanging from that pot plant…


	33. Day 33

Day 33 of isolation on Tracy Island and I'm sooooo tired. 

Why, you might ask? Because I spent the night sitting with John and Alan watching for the Lyrid meteor shower. 

No, contrary to popular belief, not every day in the Tracy House has to be a massive drama. Some days we do just chill, and today was one of them. 

We'd decided to trek down to the beach, where Scott was determined to drag the portable BBQ and Virgil wanted to make a bonfire. Honestly that sounded perfect to me so I was more than happy with their involvement in our plans.

We had one of those chilled out nights with passably good food, very good company and lots of conversation. Someone had brought along a guitar and an impromptu jamming session started up after dinner. It turns out that Jeff can create a pretty good beat with some thigh slapping and Grandma knows a few brawdy songs that would make a sailor blush. 

One by one they all wandered off back to the house, leaving us on the beach to enjoy the stars.

We had snacks, we had flasks of cocoa, blankets and pillows, it was glorious. We spread a couple of blankets out on the sand and stretched out, blankets at the ready should it get chilly. The fire was still burning merrily, keeping us pretty warm. 

I spent over an hour forcing them to point out the different constellations to me, mostly because I keep forgetting them and the sky looks different here than the one I'm used to in England. My knowledge extends to "Look at that clump over there!" and even though they named each and every one I still forgot them two minutes later and ended up making up my own names for them. 

"What's that one next to the pitchfork?" 

"What pitchfork?" John frowned, totally confused. 

"That there," I pointed. 

"That's Scorpius."

"Oh, OK. What about that bright round star in the middle of the upside down tie?" 

"A tie?" Alan stared up at the sky, his head tipped to one side, trying to see what I was focusing on.

"There, that thing!" 

"What thing?" 

I grabbed his hand, pointing it up to the sky, marking out what I was looking at. John leant over trying to help. 

"Do you mean Arcturus?" 

"I don't know, do I?" 

"I think so."

"Let's just say I do and leave it at that."

Five minutes later I nudged John. 

"What's that one there, again?" 

"Which one?" 

"The one above the one that looks it should be chasing Ichabod Crane "

I watched him scan the heavens looking for anything that remotely resembled something that would chase anything. 

"I got nothing."

I grabbed his ear and dragged his head closer to mine, squishing my cheek against his. "That one." 

"This doesn't help."

Alan squished in on my other side. 

"I think she means Hercules, which means she's looking at Draco."

"That's the one!" I cheered. "I knew I recognised it. I love the story of how it got its name."

"Story?" Alan's Big blue eyes gazed at me expectantly. It seems you're never too old to love a story. I can never say no to that boy. 

"One legend says that Draco was a titan god, who angered the goddess Athena so much that she picked him up and threw him into the heavens."

"She straight up yeeted a titan into the sky?" Alan laughed. 

"Well, she might be the goddess of wisdom but she's also the goddess of battle, so the moral is, don't annoy her."

"Noted."

John sat up to pour us all a cup of hot chocolate and we both sat up too, unable to drink lying down. 

"The legend I like says that Draco was the dragon that stood guard over a tree that stood in the garden of Hesperides. This tree was special as it was given to Hera by mother earth herself, Gaia, to celebrate Hera's marriage to Zeus. Gaia, just to point out, was also Zeus and Hera's mother, and they were siblings, but it's ancient Greece so we're supposed to ignore that part."

"Ewww."

"The tree grew golden apples and everyone wanted them and some people would stop at nothing to get them. So much so that Hercules was tasked to steal some of them as one of his twelve labours by King Eurystheus."

"He had twelve labours? I thought getting through Grandma's chore list yesterday was tough," Alan grumbled. I nodded in sympathy. 

"It wasn't just the dragon that stood guard over the apple tree but the daughters of Atlas, another titan god who, as punishment for his involvement in the war between the Olympians and the Titans, was tasked with holding up the world."

"Wait, wait, he had to hold up the whole world?" 

"And the sky," John added. 

"He held up the sky and the earth?" We nodded. "The earth he's actually standing on?" 

We nodded again. 

"Never said Greek mythology made sense. So, old Herc found the garden and after killing the dragon by shaking it with his impaling him with his spear, he enlisted the help of Atlas to go and fetch the apples from his daughters. Hercules took over the burden of holding up the earth for the time it took him to fetch the apples."

"That was nice of him."

"Not like he had a choice. Now Atlas, he was feeling nice and free without the weight of the world on his shoulders-"

"Hey! Is that where the saying comes from?" 

"Yes, most sayings and proverbs come from old mythology stories or superstitions, they were a way to teach us," John joined in. 

"Atlas, feeling all fancy now he was able to run around, didn't particularly want to take the world back, so after he got the apples he offered to take them to the King himself, wanting to leave Hercules with the world for a bit longer. But Herc was wise to his plan, and Atlas was a bit dumb, Hercules asked Atlas to just hold the world and the sky for a minute while he padded his shoulders to make himself more comfortable. Once he'd passed the world over he grabbed the apples, probably saluted him with a "See ya sucker," and took off."

Alan sniggered at this. 

"Hera, upon finding her dragon slain, placed him amongst the stars as a reward for his faithful service, personally I'd think she could have just given him back his life but apparently not." 

Alan sipped his cocoa, apparently pondering over the story for a moment or two before he nodded." Yeah, I like that one."

I kept them amused for a few more hours with other mythology stories that I could remember, all watching the sky for any sign of the meteorites, catching the odd flash of light in the backdrop of darkness and pin pricks of starlight. 

By 1am Alan had dropped off, curling up in his blankets, his head resting on my shoulder, snoring in my ear. 

I appreciated that they were both out there with me, because honestly, it probably wasn't that big a deal to them, they treated going into space like I'd treat a trip to the shops, everyday and quite mundane. Been there, done that. 

It was getting really cold so we covered up with blankets and chatted quietly to keep ourselves occupied, careful not to wake Alan, who was drooling on my shoulder, talking about nothing in particular but still putting the world to rights as our eyes scanned the skies. 

John had said that near dawn was the best time to spot them, so we were planning on sticking it out, but come 3am and I was starting to fade, my eyes drifting closed. I couldn't have napped for more than twenty minutes before John nudged me gently and pointed up. 

I squeaked happily, watching as a streak of light flew across the sky. I only got to see two but for me the whole night had been worth staying up for, because sometimes it's not what you're doing that matters, but who you're doing it with.


	34. Day 34

Day 34 of isolation on Tracy Island. 

I'm sorry, she can't come to her phone right now, she's currently trying to teach my brothers to dance The Macarena. It's been three hours. 

I'm waiting for one of them to slip and fall in the pool. 

JT


	35. Day 35

Day 35 of isolation on Tracy Island and I'm hanging out with Scott today because I'm not talking to John. Scott is the nice one, Scott's my main man, Scott would never do what he just did. 

Picture the scene…for once in forever John actually dozed off. Now this almost NEVER happens, so when he does we're all inclined to leave him alone, even Gordon, because space hubby doesn't usually get anywhere near the amount of sleep actual humans need to function. 

We were chilling out by the pool, Virgil and Alan were playing chess, Scott was getting his tan on while listening to a podcast, Gordon had his headphones on and was watching a new episode of a show and John and I were reading. 

The first indication I had that he'd fallen asleep was when the book dropped out of his hand and landed on the floor with a splat. I picked it up so it wouldn't get damaged then angled the umbrella over him so he wouldn't get too much sun, because I'm nice like that, and I actually care. Once I was sure he was protected I went back to my book, leaving him in peace. 

We were quiet for quite a while, making sure we didn't disturb him when out of the corner of my eye I saw his hand lift up. I glanced over, thinking that he was waking up, but his eyes were still closed. Scott lowered his sunnies and raised an eyebrow at me in question. I shrugged in answer, thinking that maybe a fly had landed on him or something. 

His hand stayed raised, then the other one joined it, moving slowly in the air like he was conducting an orchestra, his fingers flexing. By this point he'd attracted the attention of everyone, as we watched, wondering what the heck he was up to. 

"I think he's using his screens," Alan mused, tipping his head to the side to watch him. 

"What, like comms screens?" I asked. 

"Yeah, he's having a Zero-G dream."

"Like that time you were dream flying Three to see that comet," Virgil laughed. 

"It makes sense, it's what he does all day," Alan pointed out, ignoring the reference to his own weird sleeping habits. 

The focus of our attention suddenly frowned, stabbing at nothing, his left leg starting to move too. 

"Should I wake him up? I probably should, shouldn't I? I don't want him to end up on the floor or hurt himself."

"Probably," Scott agreed. 

I put my book down and leant over, gently shaking his shoulder. 

"Babe?" 

Nothing. 

"John?" I tried again. His hand moved closer to my face. 

"Sweetie, wake up, you're- owww!" 

I wasn't fast enough to dodge and his finger landed right in my eye as he swiped his hand across my face. 

"What the bloody hell?" 

He did it again, his fingers sweeping over my face like I was bugging him. 

"Did he just try to swipe me away?" 

The others erupted into hysterical laughter as I glared at John. 

"He just swiped me away! Didn't he? Like I was an annoying caller! How often does he do that that he's dreaming of it?" 

"John?" Alan called, struggling to form words while laughing. 

Sleepy spaceman continued to nap like absolutely nothing had happened. 

"Thunderbird One calling Thunderbird Five!" 

John's eyes sprang open and he sat bolt upright on his lounger. "Loud and clear!" He blinked, looking around in confusion. "What's going on? Why are you all laughing?" 

Gordon was laughing so hard he actually rolled off his lounger and onto the floor. 

John looked at me for backup. "What are they laughing at?" 

I shot a squinty eyed death glare at him. "Don't talk to me!" 

"What?" 

"I'm out! If you don't want to talk to me you won't have to ever again!" 

"I just spoke to you! Why wouldn't I be talking to you?" Confusion, thy name is John Tracy. 

"Oh, you just screwed up, bro," Gordon shook his head. 

"What did I do?" John yelled after me as I stomped away. 

"Hush your mouth! I'm going to watch Harry Potter, that's something I can count on!" 

"Oooh, she's mad at you," Virgil teased. 

So now, here I am, watching Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince with Scott, who I'm still talking to and who DOES NOT ignore my calls or attempt to blind me.


	36. Day 36

Day 36 of isolation… and we're not on Tracy Island! 

As part of his routine checks John had pulled up the live feed from the security cameras at my house and although everything seemed fine, I caught a glance of my garden over his shoulder and almost had a fit. 

"Look at that grass! What are those weeds? There's a cat pooping in my flower bed! I can't leave it like that, it'll be a jungle by the time I get home!" 

Determined, I rounded up the usual suspects (for that read lazy Tracy boys that need to actually get off their butts and help me now and then) guilt tripping them into helping me. 

"You have to help me, that's my house."

"But you're here at the moment, so it doesn't matter," Alan reasoned. 

"That's my house that I abandoned to stay here and feed and look after you ungrateful swines. Maybe I should just go and stay there instead, then I'd get some peace."

They are all helping. It's said that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, but I know that's also true for their work ethic. 

I soon had Scott mowing my lawn, Alan was weeding and Gordon, John and Virgil were hefting the patio furniture around to jet wash under it, sweeping up and taking bags of grass cuttings and leaves to the recycling bin. 

I was doing my bit by turning over the flower beds and sowing seeds (OK, so I was randomly sprinkling seeds all over the place, but that still counted). After an hour they started complaining so I went inside to fetch them something to drink. I opened the fridge and almost passed out. 

It seems that 36 days away from home had not been kind to the contents of the cold box. My fridge looked like a science experiment gone wrong, there was definitely some penicillin growing in there and some lessons in decomposition. This would not do! 

I screamed for Gordon, making him fetch his emergency breathing apparatus from Two, which was parked across the road in a large field. 

With the mask on and fresh oxygen flowing I was able to clean out the fridge, dumping the spoiled contents and cleaning the inside before putting the nonperishables back inside. I dragged the rubbish bag outside and hurled it into the bin, waving to a neighbour that had come out to see what all the fuss was about. She gave me a funny look which I don't blame her for, since I'd not taken off Gordon's diving mask yet. 

I made them lunch from some things I found in the freezer and poured them all some cold drinks. We worked for another hour after lunch before I declared it done. 

We might be heading back to isolation now so they can help me with writing quiz questions, but this has been a nice, safe and socially isolated little break. My garden is tidy, I didn't have to clean my own patio and now my neighbour will start believing me when I say that my husband is away a lot for work, honestly I'm sure she thought I was making it all up…


	37. Day 37

Day 37 of isolation on Tracy Island and today I decided that I need to be nicer to Gordon because I love him. He is my favourite person in the entire world, there is no one better. He's so clever and nice and loveable and I was a fool to never see this before. I've realised that I picked the ugly Tracy and that Gordon is the most handsome man in the entire world, he is everything a woman could ever want. He's got style, he's got the body of a god and he's got a wicked sense of humour. Who wouldn't love him? Everyone should love Gordon, because he's perfect. To show my love I need to make him a sandwich every day, and his favourite banana milkshake. Everyone needs to ask me every day if I've made Gordon his sandwich yet so that I don't forget. I should also be more careful where I leave my phone and I should not have John's birthday as my pin code.

Be more G!


	38. Day 38

Day 38 of isolation on Tracy Island and everyone is tip toeing around like I'm made of glass. Because I had a wobble today. It started out with me choosing the wrong movie to watch. Everyone else was off doing their own thing and I took advantage of that to hide myself away in the lounge and watch a film. 

Half way through and the old hoarder skeleton faded into nothing as his last living connection forgot about him and I started to cry. Unfortunately for Gordon that was the moment he chose to walk in. He stopped dead at the sight of my tear stained face and tried to back out silently. 

"You!" I yelled, pointing the index finger of doom at him, "stop right there."

He stopped. I patted the sofa, narrowing my eyes in case he dared think about arguing. Gordon doesn't always make wise choices but this time he did. He slunk over, knowing residence was futile and sank down next to me. Besides, he owed me for his little prank with my phone yesterday. 

Grinning evilly I slipped my arm through his, anchoring him to my side in case he thought about escaping, and snuggled closer. 

He sat with me through the rest of the movie, squirming occasionally but I was ruthless. I only let him go just long enough to reach for some tissues, knowing the end would set me off again. 

I grabbed Gordon's hand and held it tight, the ending was upon us. I could be strong. I could do this… 

I couldn't do it! Miguel raced into the house to see his great-grandmother and I started bawling like a baby. 

"Oh God, it's true, she's watching Coco again. Who let her put this on?" Darling space hubby appeared as if by magic and sat down next to me. 

"Thank God!" Gordon wrestled his hand out of my sweaty grip and shoved me at John. "You deal with her!" 

I collapsed on him in a sobbing heap. 

"It's so beautiful! Family is everything! Family is all that matters and yours are all idiots but I love them so much!" 

"Even Gordon?" he patted my head awkwardly as I snotted on his shoulder. 

"ALLLLL OF THEM!" I wailed like a banshee, clinging to him for dear life. 

"Why are you crying if you love everyone?" 

"Because no one wants to be forgotten! It's our memories that keep those we love alive. Family is important, family isn't just blood, its those we spend time with, those we have things in common with. It's the people we laugh with and cry with and the ones that get you through the dark days. Especially now when so many of us can't see our family and friends because we're all in this stupid lockdown! "

"You're counting those weird Podsteron people that you're telling our lives to, aren't you?" 

I nodded soggily. "My weird Podders family!" I started crying again when the kid in the movie started singing. 

"We are all in this together, we're all sharing our memories and it's movies and TV that brings us all together. We're making memories right now, right this minute and you should be grateful!" 

Another tissue appeared under my nose and I mopped up as I got a hug but I noticed he didn't answer my question. Honestly I couldn't blame him, I wouldn't be grateful to have a blubbering wreck on me either. 

That was a good point. Why was he sitting there being soaked by my sadness?

"Why are you here, anyway? I thought you were busy." 

John frowned. "You text me."

"No I didn't."

"Yes, you did." He found out his phone and pulled up his texts. There it was on his screen 'Come quick, I'm watching Coco again!'

My brain ticked over…Gordon!

"He took my phone again!" 

"You forgot to change your pin, didn't you?"


	39. Day 39

Day 39 of isolation on Tracy Island and I had been a bit worried about the big man the last few days. No, not Virgil, though he's a worry in general, that one. No I mean Jeff. 

He'd been a bit distant lately, and had taken to hiding out in his office a lot. I can't say I blame him really, we are quite noisy and there's so many of us that he doesn't really get a moments peace unless we're sleeping, and that doesn't seem to be happening at the moment. 

Much like the rest of the world we seem to be slowly turning nocturnal. I caught Alan eating cereal out of a mixing bowl at just gone 3am this morning. I had only ventured into the kitchen because Scott was whining that he was out of coffee. I told him to get off his lazy butt and make it himself, but then John joined in and asked for coffee too, and I'm weak. I told them that drinking coffee all night wouldn't help and that I'd make hot chocolate instead, they agreed purely because that meant they got a hot drink they didn't have to make. 

I walked in and there he was, camped out at the table, watching something on his phone, a bowl bigger than his head, filled to the brim with some chocolatey rubbish that would probably rot every tooth in his head, under his chin. 

"What are you doing?" 

"Eating." 

"Yeah, I can see that, but why do you have so much?" 

"I'm hungry and all the bowls are in the dishwasher."

"You could have gotten one out."

"But I'm hungry." He scooped up another spoonful and held it out to me. I looked at it suspiciously for a few seconds, but it really did look quite tempting… I leant over and slurped it up. 

"Fanfs," I mumbled, mouth full. 

"Welcome," he grinned, knowing full well I couldn't moan at him anymore since I was now an accomplice. Damn him. I'm so easily played. 

"Want some cocoa?" 

He nodded, still shovelling the cereal into his mush. 

I heard his phone beep. "Virgil and Gordo say they'll have some too."

"Is everyone in this house awake?" 

He shrugged. 

"Is your dad still up? Think he'd want some too?" Maybe now would be a good time to check on Jeff and make sure he was alright. 

He shrugged again. 

"That's helpful, thanks."

"No problem."

That boy either doesn't get sarcasm or he's so used to it he just chooses to ignore it. 

I boiled up a big pan of milk and whisked some cocoa powder into it along with a little sugar and ladled it out into everyone's favourite mugs. 

Alan lifted his giant bowl to his lips and drank the milk out of it, much to my disgust as that's something I absolutely hate even when it's not my favourite cake mixing bowl, and took a couple of the mugs with him to the lounge. I loaded the rest onto a tray and followed along behind him. 

I deposited the tray on the coffee table and took the extra mug with me as I went to track down Jeff. 

I lifted my hand to knock on his office door, but it was already slightly ajar and I could hear him talking inside. I didn't want to interrupt because he rarely spoke to anyone outside of the family. 

I'll just leave it outside the door, I thought, and text him to let him know it's there. I turned to go but then I heard another voice and, damn my curiosity, I actually stopped. It had the same kind of gruff tone as Jeff's and the same twinge of accent too. Weird. 

"How much longer can this lockdown last?" the voice asked. "It's been over a month and people are starting to do some crazy things."

"Same here," Jeff agreed. "Two of my sons decided to turn two palm trees into a giant slingshot and started firing sun lounger cushions across the beach." I sniggered silently at this, Scott had great aim and Virgil had the power to really pull back on that grappling cable. Together they made a great team. 

"At least you have a beach," the voice replied grumpily. "I haven't seen sunshine in a month, we've been on permanent battlestations."

"Yeah, I guess we're lucky here."

"Lucky? I've seen too much sun," another voice chimed in. "We're above the clouds and someone smuggled a pair of rollerskates aboard and they are now holding competitions to see how much speed they can build up on the runway before hurtling over the edge. Excuse my rudeness if I don't thank you for sending the schematics for those jet packs. I know the world is in crisis but this is still an operational base, not a rest center."

"Rest center? I'll tell you about a rest center, I was waiting outside of the bathroom for over an hour this afternoon and no one came out. I knocked until my first hurt. I called maintenance and when they got the door open I found Sheridan asleep in there. And do you know what the devil said to me? Oh, I'm awake, commander. But he wasn't awake. He's never awake!"

I stifled a giggle, he sounded so put out. Honestly, I could relate, Virgil does that all the time, drops off the sleep and then swears blind he was awake the whole time. 

The three men were quiet for a few moments, as if digesting this information, then the third man spoke again. 

"I made a grave error today."

"You did?" Jeff sounded surprised. "Now surely that's not possible."

"I can assure you, it is. I'm only admitting it now because I trust you two with the information."

There was a mumble of acknowledgement and promises of discretion. 

"So, don't keep us waiting, man, tell us what the blazes happened," the second man demanded. 

"I overestimated how capable my Lieutenant was. You see. I told Scarlet to get a haircut, but he's always been one for backchat and he told me that mine was longer than his. It was a whole half inch longer than regulation and I have to set a good example for my crew, I can't be seen to be letting things slide just because we're in this blasted lockdown." He cleared his throat." And...ah, it seems that he misunderstood the settings on the clippers, he thought that one was the longest…" he trailed off but had evidently chosen that moment to switch to video, not just audio, as the sound of deep laughter floated through the door. I pressed my eye against the gap but didn't manage to see anything good. 

The men laughed for a few moments before recovering their control. The second man spoke again. 

"Are yours all arguing over ridiculous things?" 

Both Jeff and Three made noises of agreement. I have to admit, this was the most civilised conversation I've ever had the pleasure to overhear.

"They're all rather restless it seems," Three added. "I've lost count of the times I've caught an Angel sneaking out of their quarters and into the mens wing."

"I've caught Tempest going into different rooms on the same night. I daren't tell my daughter."

"My boys are probably still roaming the Villa right now, none of them seem to sleep anymore. A man should not have to hide in his own home just to speak to his friends."

The other two made encouraging noises and supportive suggestions about being firmer with them and I almost snorted. There was no way the boys would ever do as they were told, the men were wasting their breath. 

An alarm sounded from the office but it was muffled and definitely not one of ours. 

"Oh for the…Blue has gone too far this time. I have to leave, he just dared Magenta to wax his eyebrows. Far too eager to please, that one. Far too eager."

"Same time tomorrow?" Two asked. 

"Without a doubt, this council of war is the only thing keeping me sane."

"Colonel!" a new voice yelled faintly. "Colonel White! Scarlet has his head caught in the waste disposal chute again!" 

"I can't stand it anymore, they are driving me mad, mad I tell you! He's supposed to be indestructible, not insane!" 

The comm beeped to indicate that someone had left the call. 

"I have to leave too, Marina is doing her mime act and that always gets everyone fired up, especially when Fisher brings out the tequila."

Jeff chuckled. "Until tomorrow."

Another beep sounded. 

"Maybe mine aren't so bad after all," I heard Jeff muse. 

I left the mug on the floor and backed away quietly. I had my own drink and idiots to get back to. 

They were just how I'd left them. Scott and Gordon were lounging in the bucket seats, Gordon was still trying to stretch out on the same couch Virgil was also sitting on and John was checking in remotely with Five. 

"What took you so long?" Scott asked, ever the concerned older brother. "Is everything OK?" 

"Yep, all good, I just forgot to call mum and dad," I fibbed easily knowing they wouldn't question me making a call to the other side of the road so late at night. No one needed to know what I'd overheard as I was no longer worried about Jeff. He could keep his secret, he deserved it for putting up with us all. 

I sank down on the couch next to John and reached for my mug, which for some reason had a stripy sock under it as a coaster. 

"OK, who drank my drink?"


	40. Day 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Co-written with @hedwigstalons as the answer to a challenge set to us on Tumblr.

Day 40 of isolation on Tracy Island and Gordon is grumpy because his heirloom is not as special as he thought. 

It started with Jeff deciding that maybe now was the time to take up gardening. Apparently one of his friends had suggested it as a way of calming the mind and being more Zen (my words, not his) and he was now wielding a pair of hedge trimmers like the bush had offended his ancestors. Virgil was cringing and muttering about this being the reason he hadn't brought his new love of Topiary to the island. 

The bushes and shrubs put up a valiant defence but it was no match for a Tracy on the warpath. The ornamental border soon looked like it had been run over with an industrial lawnmower. So much for a little light pruning. I was quite glad Jeff hadn’t been part of the working party at my flat and vowed never to let him anywhere near my herb tubs.

The herbaceous massacre, as it came to be known, did answer one of life’s mysteries though. It revealed just what had become of Gordon’s bell. Of course now he is lording it over us all again and trying to use it to summon drinks and snacks. Virgil helpfully volunteered to break both of Gordon’s legs again so he would be deserving of waitress service which shows just how annoying the little tinkly sound could be in the hands of the squid. 

I groaned when the little jingling nightmare made its presence known for the tenth time that morning. 

“Where the hell did that thing even come from?” I demanded to know, I’d only seen it once before and wasn’t about to admit to it.

Everyone looked at it, their heads swivelling as one, like cats tracking a mouse, it was both fascinating and disturbing in equal measure.

“Parker gave it to me,” Gordon told me, “when I broke my leg. It’s very valuable you know, it belonged to his great-great-great-a few-more- greats-grandfather who was the butler to the Prince of somewhere. The Prince used it every day to call for his attendees to dress him for the day. He said that it had been in his family ever since the Prince had gifted it to his great-whatever on his retirement. That’s why I was so surprised when he threw it away, you’d think he’d be a little more careful with his family heirlooms.”

Alan snorted. “That's not even the slightest bit true.”

“Oh yeah, how would you know?” Gordon demanded. 

“I know because I found it in the kitchen cupboard and gave it to him to give to you.”

“You did not!”

“I totally did!”

“Well where did it come from then? Why was it in the kitchen?”

“I put it away when I found MAX with it,” Brains chimed in.

“Where the heck did MAX get it from?” Scott wanted to know. “I hid that thing in the drinks cabinet.”

“Why were you hiding it in the drinks cabinet?” I had to ask. My head was spinning, my simple question leading to something I could barely follow.

“I can answer that one. ”

My head swivelled round and I nearly spilled my drink. Just when had Kayo arrived? I never knew whether she was on the island or not. Heck, sometimes I didn’t even know when she was in the same room as me. I swear that woman has a cat lurking somewhere in her ancestry.

“Scott here was probably embarrassed after one of our training sessions. I found the bell in the gym cupboard and set him a challenge. It bruised his ego that he was no match for me on stealth. I expect he was hiding it to avoid a rematch.”

OK, no surprise that Kayo could best Scott on stealth but, as if pulled on by an inescapable force, I just had to ask. “So where does the bell come in?”

We all proceeded to watch open-mouthed as Kayo picked up the bell and vaulted three chairs without a single chime sounding out. Definitely part cat.

“OK, OK, ” Scott threw his hands up in resignation. “Busted. But how did it end up in the gym cupboard?”

There were various shrugs around the room as everyone denied knowledge of how it ended up there. I subjected each of them to my patented stare. I knew as well as they did that the bell hardly classed as sporting goods. Having been forced into captivity with these untidy animals and their habit of leaving objects lying around for someone else to pick up I knew one of them was guilty. 

Slowly a hand lifted into the air. 

“John?” Alan goggled. “Why were you in the gym?”

“Hey! I work out! Probably more than you do.”

“But the gym?" Alan ignored the slur on his work out schedule. “You don’t use the gym.”

“It was when-” he paused, interrupting himself to cough sheepishly.

The power of a million eyes looked my way. I whistled innocently, the clouds in the sky suddenly very fascinating. 

“Is this going to be gross?” Alan whined, making a face that only a teenager could make. “Did you disinfect after?”

He didn't see the book coming until it was too late.

“There is nothing gross about a sit up competition. A couple that works out together...well, that has nothing to do with staying together but it helps.”

“How does a bell have anything to do with sit ups?” Gordon asked.

“If you can’t use your imagination then I’m not telling you.”

“You do need pretty strong legs though,” John added.

“And a trust that you won't get dropped on your head.”

“You said it wasn’t gross!”

“That still doesn’t explain where the bell came from before you took it to the gym for some weird stuff we don’t need to know about,” Gordon grumbled, still quite put out that his precious was now a little less special and a lot more tainted.

“I found it on the unit with Grandma’s ornament collection.”

“Grandma has an ornament collection?”

“Yes, by the book cases. You might know about it if you actually bothered to read. You know, have a go at improving that chlorine soaked brain of yours.”

Honestly, it was like living with a load of children. Put them in a room together for five minutes and if it wasn’t books being thrown it was insults.

“So you stole one of Grandma’s ornaments?”

“Not stole, borrowed. Tracys don’t steal.”

“OK, you borrowed one of Grandma’s ornaments and then didn’t put it back. You are so going to be on dish duty for a month now she knows. It’s probably one of her favourites.”

I was feeling a little guilty at this point because to be fair I hadn't worried about where the bell ended up after our gym session either. It’s only because John is a tidy soul at heart that it made it into the gym cupboard at all rather than being left out on the mats. I had been a little...distracted to worry about such niceties. I promised myself that whatever fate befell John for his misdemeanour I would shoulder my share of the punishment.

Grandma picked up the bell and gave it a closer look.

“This thing, ” she mused, turning it over in her hands. “Oh yes, I remember where I got it from. It’s nothing special really. I found it when I was doing the laundry so put it with my knick-knacks. You boys never do remember to check your pockets before putting your uniforms in to wash. I’ve found all sorts over the years.”

“Us boys?” Accusatory looks were exchanged once again. I have no idea how they get any work done being so damn suspicious all the time. They are constantly questioning each other's motives and believing the worst of each other. Though honestly, they could be little buggers to each other whenever they indulged in one of their prank wars, which was quite often. And since they had stopped announcing the start of said wars, I guess they had a reason to constantly suspect each other of wrongdoing.

“Well if I don't know where it came from,” Scott started.

“And I found it in the kitchen,” Alan continued.

“After M...MAX found it in the drinks cabinet when he was mixing me a Cosmopolitan,” Brains admitted. My eyes widened, I was soooo not touching that bit of information with a ten foot pole.

“And Parker didn’t inherit it from a Prince,” Gordon added.

“And I found it already in the Gym cupboard,” Kayo threw in.

“And I got it from the shelf,” John confirmed.

“Where I put it after I found it clunking around in the dryer,” Grandma finished off.

“And I had never seen it before I fished it out from the shrubbery,” Jeff chimed in. “That leaves…”

Virgil hung his head.

“Virgil, where did you get that bell?” Grandma demanded to know.

His eyes were darting here and there, looking anywhere but at her.

“Speak up, young man.”

“Yeah, Virg, where did you get the bell?” Gordon grinned evilly, obviously enjoying watching Grandma’s golden boy squirm.

“Did you buy it in a pretty little antique store somewhere?” I offered helpfully.

“Was it a gift from a lady friend?”

“Did you get it as a thank you from a star struck rescuee?”

“Did you just like the sound it made?”

“Will you all shut up!” he roared, exploding from his chair.

Alan looked as if he’d die of shock. Virgil never shouted.

“Virgil, I’m waiting,” Grandma never backed down. “Where did the bell come from?”

Virgil took a deep breath and then straightened his shoulders, lifting his head defiantly.

“You know when Professor Questa called us with his yearly demand for help?”

Brains, Grandma, Scott and John all nodded.

“And then the volcano actually started to erupt?”

More nods.

“Everything got a little out of hand, the guy at the desk wasn't listening and then Brains was riding MAX and…”

“And?” seven voices demanded in unison. How had we gone from a volcano to Brains treating MAX like a fairground ride? 

“I was just trying to get his attention and...well...I kinda, accidentally...”

A collective holding of breath…

“I stole it.”

Poor Virgil, he’s never going to live this one down.


	41. Day 41

Day 41 of isolation on Tracy Island and I'm never going to try to teach Virgil yoga ever again. 

Kayo and I were chilling out in the gym making good use of the quiet that was so rare these days. She was doing some Tai Chi while I was relaxing with some deep back stretches. All this sitting around doing nothing was playing havoc with my spine and I was feeling the need for a little exercise. 

I'm not really a cardio person, I'm more of a low impact type of girl, so walks on the beach or along the Island paths, hooping or yoga is the ones for me. I've found that the day starts off a little smoother if I do a few moves before I really get going, it helps to shake off the stiffness of a night's sleep. 

I began my routine with a short few minutes in what people call corpse pose, it's essentially lying flat on your back, legs stretched out and arms resting gently at your sides, taking some deep breaths, in through your nose and out through your mouth. 

I could feel the vibrations on the floor as Kayo moved smoothly from one foot to the other, shifting her weight and balancing as steady as a rock. 

Next I planted my feet and slid my knees up, so they were bent with my feet flat on the ground, and lifted up into a bridge. I like this move, I get to feel a nice stretch of my abdominals and my thighs, though the trick is to keep your forearms flat on the ground and your shoulders down. 

I kept my breathing as even as possible and tried not to wobble.

"What are you doing?" 

I opened my eyes to see Virgil looming over me. 

"Yoga. What are you doing?" 

"Real exercise."

"Excuse me, but this is real exercise. This takes strength and skill, " I wobbled and collapsed in a heap on my back. 

He snorted softly. "Yeah, you looked real skillful."

"I'd like to see you do it," Kayo taunted. 

"Easy," he declared. 

"Fine, get on the floor."

He laid down next to me and awaited his instructions. 

I then lifted my legs, hugging my knees to my chest and rolling slowly from side to side, relaxing my spine into a comfy curve, sighing in relief as I felt the vertebrae pop and release. 

Virgil watched for a moment then joined in, wrapping his arms around his knees. 

"Now rock gently," I instructed him. 

He rocked to the side but didn't stop at the rock, no he just rolled straight over onto his side. 

"Bit dramatic, but OK."

I then bent my knees a little and grabbed my feet, stretching my arms out and my legs apart as far as they would go in what is called happy baby. I didn't really need to do it, but it was amusing me to watch Virgil try to stretch out and wiggle like a toddler. I caught sight of Kayo, her eyes bright with suppressed laughter. 

Once I released my feet I dropped them back down to sit flat on the ground, knees bent, then let them fall to the left, twisting at the waist, head turned the opposite way to which my legs were going. 

Virgil copied me, his knees thumping solidly against the floor. 

"Yoga is supposed to be gentle and fluid, Virgil," Kayo told him. 

I relaxed for a few breaths and moved my knees back to the center, before going the other way, and then back. Virgil huffed along with me. 

"Can we get off the floor yet?" 

"Fine, but do it as I do."

I lifted up slowly onto my knees and knelt for a moment, back straight as I twisted at the waist, this way and that, feeling the stretch. 

Virgil got awkwardly to his knees, which let out a couple of pops in protest, as did his spine as he twisted. 

"Now doesn't that feel better?" 

He groaned pathetically, I couldn't tell if it was a good groan or not. 

We slowly stood, stretching up straight and tall into mountain pose. Virgil lumbering to his feet. 

I flexed my hips, lifting first one foot then the other before dropping my arms slowly and bending at the waist, skimming my hands down my legs until I was bent in half, folded over, fingers touching my toes (or as best I could, being so tall and with such long legs, it's pretty much impossible as my arms aren't that bloody long) in a forward fold. 

My hands slid easily thanks to my soft yoga pants, but Virgil had a harder time in bending down and Kayo had to help him, massaging his back while he huffed and moaned his way through his bend. 

"You struggling, boo?" I asked sweetly. He didn't dignify it with an answer. 

I stayed like this for a few breaths, in through the nose and out through the mouth and then half straighted into a flat backed bend, pushing my palms against a nearby wall to really feel the benefit of the stretch. Virgil straightened too although his back cracked at the effort, Kayo's hand in the middle of his back stopping him from lifting up too fast. 

I couldn't help a little giggle that escaped even though I was supposed to be all quiet and serene as I moved back and down into downward dog. 

"Come on muscles, get moving, on your knees. Then head down, bum up, legs and arms straight."

"Urghhh, I need to what?" He twisted his head to watch me as Kayo grabbed him around the waist and tried to haul his middle up into the air. 

"How much do you weigh?" she groaned. 

"Hey! That's personal. Besides, we've all gotten a little fluffy from being so inactive lately."

I ignored that comment but sucked my stomach in a bit, just in case and held it for a few breaths. Even though I was beginning to wobble and my arms were protesting a little I was nowhere near as bad as the wobbling wall of chonk next to me. 

"And down," I coached as I let my belly lower, sliding down into cobra, arching my spine as I stretched my neck out, legs straight out behind me, my weight resting on my forearms. 

He flopped down with less grace than a felled tree and Kayo had to help him again, sitting in his legs with her foot in the center of his back as he arched backwards. 

"Plank and then downward dog again," I instructed. 

"A whatward pup?" he huffed as Kayo rolled off his legs. 

"Downward dog," she told him. "Head down butt up." 

"Oh, that," he groaned but gamely tried his best, managing to raise up on his arms and legs without Kayo's help. 

I lowered myself down into a plank, and held it for a beat before raising to my knees and then into a forward lunge, arms straight above my head in warrior one. 

"Be a warrior with me!" I demanded, and Kayo joined in, copying the pose, Virgil sandwiched between us, wobbling madly. 

"That much bulk is not meant to stand in one place so long," she commented. 

"But he so pretty," I tossed back. 

"I am here you know." 

"We know," Kayo grinned. 

I lowered my arms and stretched one out in front and one back, in warrior two, before switching to the other side. 

Virgil's legs were twitching madly and he was sweating up a storm but he gamely locked his knees and soldiered on like the warrior he was trying to be. 

"Down again." 

Nearly done, I dropped to my hands and knees again. 

"Again? Can't we just stay down and do it all in one go?" 

"Nope."

"I thought this was supposed to be relaxing and calming?"

"Don't you feel calm? I feel calm. What about you, Kay?" 

"Oh, I'm so relaxed."

"I hate you both." 

"No you don't, you love us."

I arched my back on my in breath, tucking my head down until my chin touched my chest in cat pose, holding it for a few seconds. 

Kayo helped by shoving her leg under Virgil's belly and lifting. 

"Hey! Get off!" 

I relaxed my spine, pushing my stomach down towards the floor and lifted my head up and back, stretching my neck in cow pose.

Kayo swung her leg up to land on his back, pushing down. 

"Stop it!" 

I continued to cat/cow for a span of ten breaths, in and out, spine rounded then arched, relaxing more with each movement. 

Unfortunately the same couldn't be said for my student who had Kayo still 'helping'. 

"How many more?" he grunted. 

"Last one but stay on to your knees."

Finally I lowered down to kneel, keeping my back straight, my hands in front of my chest in prayer pose taking a few more deep breaths. 

Virgil thumped down next to me. It sounded like it hurt. 

"Annnndddd relax." 

I finished off in child's pose, arms stretched out before me, curled in a kneeling ball, head bowed, forehead touching the floor, and breathed out. 

Virgil collapsed forward with a groan, tucking his knees up under him. 

"I think I broke a hip," he moaned pathetically. 

I counted us through a few deep breaths and then uncurled, standing up to stretch up high, reaching to the ceiling. 

"There? Don't you feel amazing now?" 

Virgil moaned, defeated. Kayo and I offered him a hand each and hauled him to his feet. 

"You just need more practice. You did great," I praised. But he wasn't convinced. 

"No thanks, I think I'll stick to the weights, they're a little more forgiving than you two."


	42. Day 42

Day 42 of isolation on Tracy Island and wow, something happened today that hardly EVER HAPPENS! It rained. Not just a little pitter patter of rain but a full on storm. And it was glorious.   
Now I'm not a huge fan of the sun, which I know is stupid when you spend a lot of your time on a tropical island, but the sun is not my friend. It's too hot, its too sticky, it's too bright and I usually end up bright red and in pain. It's not great so I try to avoid it. That's why you'll always find me and John hiding under an umbrella, slathered in sunscreen and usually with a light top (and skirt in my case) on over our swimwear. Protection is key, people! 

So, as I was saying, it was a gloomy, rainy, dark day and I was revelling in it. I was floating around in all my goth glory, and just having the best day. It was the type of day where you want to curl up on the couch with a blanket, a big bowl of popcorn and watch scary movies. I was craving ghosts and jump scares to go with the flashing lightning and rumbling thunder outside. Come to me my dark friends! 

"Who wants to watch scary movies with me?" I asked at dinner. Everyone looked at me like I was crazy for a few seconds, probably because I'd just announced my plans very loudly with no warning what so ever. That's kinda how I do everything, just randomly and on my own timetable. 

"Well, anyone?" 

A couple of hands slowly slid up although they looked like they weren't entirely sure what they were volunteering for. 

I'd known Scott would be on board, he always is, he'll watch anything that boy, as long as you provide him with popcorn. Although he's usually my spooky movie buddy. 

John finds them ridiculous and turned down my very generous offer to share my blanket, as did Virgil, although Gordon and Alan proclaimed that they were in. 

"So, what are we watching?" Alan asked, slightly nervously I might add. 

"Annabelle," Scott announced as he cued up the movie. 

"Annabelle?" 

"She's a haunted doll." 

"A doll? We're watching a movie about a doll?" Gordon snorted. 

"Yep!" 

"I thought you said we were watching a scary movie. Dolls aren't scary," Alan protested. 

"Just wait," Scott promised, grinning evilly.

We watched our way through a grisly murder, a demon summoning, some weird stuff going down, scary shadows, a moving haunted doll, a priest that a demon uses to hitchhiker in, a baby almost sucked into another dimension and a lady who throws herself out of a window. 

By the end I had lost my blanket to the youngest two who were huddled up under it, and Scott had eaten all my popcorn. 

That had been fun! I fell victim to a few jump scares and will admit that I did try to karate kick a spook away (you try watching a horror projected in front of you in holographic form and tell me you wouldn't act on reflex) but all in all it had been a great way to waste a few hours. 

We ventured to the kitchen for a late night snack then the younger boys decided to turn in for the night. 

Scott and I stayed up to watch a couple of episodes of our guilty pleasure, Come Dine with Me. We like to watch people be mean about each other's dishes in private but be sweet as sugar to their faces. Honestly, we just like watching people mess up and panic with their cooking. It feels like home. 

"So, how well do you think Gordo is going to sleep after Annabelle?" I asked as we watched a man fighting with his soufflés. 

"Not well at all," he grinned. 

"Oh, I know that look, what are you planning?" 

"How much I tell you depends on if you want to be an accomplice or an innocent bystander."

Oooh, now wasn't that a question…

I held out my hand and we shook. We're a team. 

"Come with me, we're going to raid Kayo's room."

Huh… Now this would be interesting. 

Kayo, it transpired, was also in the mood to mess with the younger two and was instantly on board, lending us exactly what we needed 

I was awoken from a blissfully deep sleep by the sound of screaming. For a second I panicked, then I remembered our nocturnal visit and laid back down.

"Why is Gordon screaming?" John asked sleepily as the sound of hysterical yelling zoomed past our door and down the hall. 

"You know Kayo's doll that her Grandfather made, the wooden one with the weirdly painted eyes that seem to stare into your soul?" 

"Yes," he sounded so suspicious even as he suppressed a shudder at the thought of the doll. He knew us so well. 

"We may have left it sitting on his bedside table."


	43. Day 43

Day 43 of Isolation on Tracy Island and we had such a fun day today.

It all started with a note left on the coffee pot. Such an occurrence is rare and so we all gathered around like kids around a christmas stocking, wondering what it was all about. Alan pushed Scott forward.

“Read it,” he demanded.

Scott rolled his eyes but did as he was told, unfolding the note. His eyes scanned the words, a wide smile forming. Still grinning he began to read aloud. “Pick your teams wisely, for they will be your only friends. Trust no one. Your lists are in your favourite places, you have until midday.”

“Is that what I think it is?” Virgil asked.

Scott nodded. “It’s a Tracy Treasure Hunt.’”

Instantly everyone was on the alert, even me and I had no clue what was going on. 

“Who’s in?” John asked, all business.

“Let’s do this fairly,” Virgil insisted. “We put out the call, we give them five minutes to get here, after that it's every man for himself.”

“Original rules apply?” John asked.

“Eldest three are team captains, we'll wait and see if Grandma, Brains and Kayo want to get involved,” Scott agreed.

“Do you have any clue what's going on and why they are treating this like a military operation?” I side whispered to Alan.

He shrugged. “It’s the annual Tracy Treasure Hunt, Dad used to organise one every Summer Vacation, being the oldest they were always team captains. They take it very seriously.”

“I can see that.”

“Dad hadn’t done one in years,” Gordon added, already grinning. “This is gonna be great.”

They waited impatiently for the remaining troops to answer the call, but by the time five minutes were up it was still just us.

“I’ll take Alan,” Scott yelled. Alan bounced over happily. 

“Gordon!” Virgil claimed. Gordon knocked fists with him as he joined him. 

“Guess you’re stuck with me,” I told the space hubby, "saving the best til last, obviously." I’m not sure if he looked pleased or not as he grabbed my hand and towed me out of the kitchen.

“How do you want to play this?” I asked once he stopped hustling me along like a child being forced to cross the road.

“Logically,” he answered. I raised an eyebrow at that.

“What?”

“Well, duh. I mean, do you have a game plan?”

“Use my superior intellect to get as many items as possible before they do.”

“So we’re just going full steam ahead. I’m game. Favorite place, let's go. Chop chop, spaceman!”

He gave me a look that said he was regretting ever meeting me but took off towards the stairs, leaving me to either catch up or get left behind forever. He was a man on a mission.

We ran up to the roof of the villa where a couple of loungers were left out all year round for anyone who wished to star gaze. We checked all around but couldn't find anything that might be the list we were seeking.

“We must have missed it, it’s got to be here somewhere,” John huffed, frustrated. 

“Want my opinion?”

“Of course, we're a team.”

“You’re thinking too small, who said anything about sticking to the villa? Or even earth?”

His eyes widened as the full meaning of my words hit home. As one we rushed back down the stairs and headed for the hangers. The list was tucked under the seat of the space elevator.

“Clue number one,” John read out. “What has a ring, but no finger? What would that be, a telephone maybe?”

“Saturn,” I offered. 

“That’s not very logical or obvious.”

“So what. Do we not get extra points for creativity?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never gone off list before.”

“Wanna live a little?”

He looked like he was having a serious internal debate with himself and experiencing genuine conflict. I felt kinda sorry for him. Finally he nodded.

“My model in the library.”

We carefully plucked the little model of Saturn from its spot in the solar system and tucked it into our swag bag.

I stole the list from his pocket and had a nose. Some of them were pretty easy so I grabbed a pen from the pot on the desk and started marking down my answers like I was doing a quiz.

“What are you doing?”

“Answering the clues.”

“That’s not how it works, you have to work your way through.”

“Who says?” 

“I…we...no one, but that's how we’ve always done it.”

“Is it in the rules?”

“No, but-”

“No buts, do you wanna do it your way or do you wanna win?”

“But that's not how-”

“Hi, have we met?” I held out my hand. “I’m your worst nightmare and I was put on this earth to bug you on a daily basis but also to enrich your life with my chaotic self. So, for once, why don’t you just do as you're told and have fun?”

He looked from my hand, you my face with its stupid, welcoming grin and back to my hand. Slowly he reached out and shook.

“Hi, I’m John and I have a hard time with chaos but I'm learning to appreciate it.”

“Nice to meet you. Right, this is the plan, we sit down with a cup of coffee and we work our way through as many of these clues as possible, then we split up and grab as many items as we can as fast as we can. If any of the others spot us, we say that we annoyed each other so much that we gave up and we’re working alone. It’s us, they’ll believe it. Good plan?”

“Good plan,” he agreed. One thing I will say about John, when he sees the logic of a plan he commits to it a thousand percent and will do everything in his power to make it work.

Quickly we worked our way through the list of clues.

“Stiff in my spine and my body is pale, but I'm always ready to tell a tale.”

“A book,” I grabbed the nearest one and tossed it in the bag. “Next.”

“I have a neck, but no head, but I still wear a cap.”

Urghhh, why did clues have to be so damn cryptic? I was already getting a headache and it was only a little after ten. 

“I swear I’m gonna need a drink after this and it’s not even lunch time.”

“Drink? A bottle!”

“No, not a whole bottle, I’m not that much of a coronaholic yet.”

He rolled his eyes at me. “No, that's the answer. A bottle.”

“Oooooh, ok, gotcha. Good call.” I wrote it on the list. “The more I dry the wetter I become. What dries but becomes wet?”

He thought for a few moments. “A towel dries.”

“And becomes wet. I knew I didn't just like you for your pretty face.”

He didn't comment on that one, he just can't take a compliment, that boy. “What’s black and white and read all over?”

“Oh, oh I know this one!" I cheered, finally useful."My granddad always used to tell this riddle. It's a newspaper.”

“Where the heck are we going to get one of those? We haven't had any in years.”

I thought about it for a while as he worked his way through a few more clues. Suddenly a memory sparked. “Did Grandma show you her memory box? She’s got a few in there, ones that reported on your Dad and his missions. We could borrow one of them.”

“Yes! Good thinking, I'd forgotten about those.”

“Well let's hope the others have too.”

“Last clue, some take me in the morning, others take me in the evening, but one thing you should know, when I'm taken, I don’t really go anywhere.”

“Us on date night?”

Oooh that was an epic scowl, but I admit, I kinda deserved it. 

“We’ll come back to that one. Let's get these items and I'll keep thinking.” 

We took half the list each and set off. I checked my items and formulated a plan.

-A bird that cannot fly - A penguin

-Fluttering, flying and flittering free, from flower to flower is where you’ll find me - a butterfly

-I’m so simple that I only point, yet I guide people all over the world- a compass

-I start with an ‘e’ and end with an ‘e’ but usually only contain one letter- an envelope.

-One sheet, two sheets, three sheets or four, some use less and some use more. - Toilet paper 

-when I put on my clothes, it's takes off its clothes - a coat hanger. 

-We are not flesh, or skin or bone, but we still have fingers and thumbs of our own- gloves

John’s list had:

  * If you were ‘able’, you’d add a T- a table
  * Look for a rainbow in a box - paints or pencils 
  * Keys open my door, but mine only make a sound- a piano
  * I get bigger when i eat, but die weaker when i drink- fire
  * What invention lets you look right through a wall- a window.
  * What has a face but does not frown and hands but cannot wave? - a clock
  * What cannot be burned in a fire nor drowned in water? - ice



John was in charge of taking pictures of the items we couldn't pocket, while I was innocently gathering the things we could and hiding them in the one place the other boys would never look, in the cleaning cupboard. 

I could hear the other two teams racing around all over the villa and the grounds, yelling instructions to each other, while we were working like a well oiled machine. I just bet that he was glad he got stuck with me now, boys are so dumb when it comes to things like this. I have a skill I'm particularly proud of, being able to get the most amount of work done with the least amount of effort, and today it was coming in very handy. Men always over complicate things, it's my job to simplify. 

I had just retrieved a butterfly hair clip from my makeup bag and was exiting the bedroom when Scott and Alan came round the corner. I pocketed the clip quickly and acted innocent. 

"Where's John?" Scott asked. 

I shrugged. "No idea."

"Did he annoy you already?" Alan laughed. "We always ended up arguing whenever we teamed up."

"You know him so well," I hedged, not wanting to say too much, Scott was already looking at me suspiciously. 

"I'm just gonna leave you boys to it, maybe go take a bath." Oh! Bath! Something pinged in my head like a lightbulb going off. Baths are like showers but you lay down. You can take a shower in the evening or the morning but you can't take it anywhere! That was the clue! 

I schooled my face to look as impassive as possible. 

"So, yeahhh, I'm just gonna go in here…" I dived into the bathroom before they could interrogate me further. 

"I just had a close call," I text to John. "Scott and Alan almost caught me."

"Virgil just caught me taking a picture while sitting on his piano stool, I had to pretend I was taking a selfie. I don't think they believed me," John text back. 

"Do you have the selfie?" I had to ask. 

"No, and we will never speak of it again."

I gave up after that, stepped into the shower and snapped a selfie just because I could and checked the time. Ten minutes left. Things were getting serious. 

I snuck into Gordon's room and stole his cuddly toy penguin, grabbed a water bottle from the recycling, and raced back to the lounge, detouring via the cupboard to retrieve our stash. 

I made it to the couches with thirty seconds to spare, I know because Jeff was there waiting and timing us. 

I skidded to a halt and flopped down next to John, dropping the bag onto his lap. 

"Hey! No fair, you didn't go for a bath at all!" Alan protested when he saw that I was still dry and not currently floating in warm water. 

"So ready to believe the worst," I tutted, shaking my head. 

"Time's up!" Jeff announced. "Present your loot." 

Scott and Alan went first, presenting an impressive 14 items. 

Virgil and Gordon had managed 13.

We counted out ours and found that we had 17.

"Well, there's clearly only one winner," Jeff announced. 

"I knew you weren't taking a selfie," Gordon laughed. 

"Oh! SELFIE!" I screamed in excitement and fished out my phone. I found the photo and presented it to Jeff for judgement. 

"18!"

"What? HOW?" Scott demanded to know. 

John looked confused, taking my phone to see what I had shown. 

"So it wasn't date night after all?" 

"Nope." 

"What are they talking about?" Gordon whispered to Virgil, who shrugged, he didn't have a clue either.

I showed them my phone. "Clue number 7, thanks for giving me a hint."

Scott and Alan groaned in defeat. I smiled sweetly. 

"I present you with the Tracy Trophy," Jeff passed John something gold. 

I looked at it, then blinked and looked again. 

"Why? Why is that even a thing?" 

"I didn't read the description properly when I ordered it," Gordon admitted. "I was searching for space and the moon." 

Well, I can't say I want to see this thing on display, but I'm proud of our efforts and I'm pretty sure that I won't get picked last next time.

<https://www.dropbox.com/s/to5aiqgxjhel6gg/PicsArt_05-01-09.53.24.jpg?dl=0>


	44. Day 44

Day 44 of isolation on Tracy Island and I'm still not forgiven for pulling that sneaky win out of the bag yesterday, but the Tracy Trophy is now sitting on top of the coffee pot so everyone has to see it. If I’m gonna suffer, so are they, I’m generous like that. 

Everyone seems to be feeling a little nostalgic at the moment, even those of us that you wouldn't expect. 

It happened very suddenly and with absolutely no warning. We were wandering around, doing our thing, some of us in the lounge, some of us in the kitchen and various other places. We heard the comms link click on and all of sudden Grandma's commanding tone echoed through the villa. 

"The floor is lava!" 

I watched as they all leapt like they had been shot, diving, scrambling over each other and basically acting like complete idiots trying to get off the floor. 

Scott leapt on top of the kitchen table, sliding bodily across it even though there were still breakfast cups on there. That didn't matter a jot to him. Alan climbed a kitchen stool and perched on top like a goblin, his arms wrapped around his knees. 

Gordon, it transpired, was doing laps of the pool, so just stayed in there, lazily swimming, his logic being that the water would protect him. I mean, we couldn’t really argue with that.

I dithered, not knowing what to do. How was this even a thing that was happening? I knew the concept of the game but I’d never played it and so I wasn't that quick off the mark as a countdown started, 5...4...3…

Virgil jogged past me and scooped me up like I was nothing and slung me over his shoulder and in two hops was up on the piano stool and onto the top of his baby.

I wasn't prepared for such unaccustomed heroics and flailed, screaming like a banshee for a second before I realised I was being rescued and went limp, closing my eyes so I wasn't staring directly at his butt. I didn't open them again until I was on my feet and standing on the piano like we were shipwrecked on an island.

“That was dramatic,” John commented. He was fine, he’d been stretched out on the couch for the past hour so hadn't bothered moving. Jeff had simply lifted his feet off the floor and propped them up on his desk.

“W-what is going on?” a voice asked from the doorway.

“Brains, the floor is lava!”

He looked down at the floor, which quite obviously, looked as it always did.

“I-I can assure you t-that it is not.”

“Get off the floor, Brains,” Jeff instructed him. 

“Why?”

“Because the floor’s lava.”

A claxon echoed through the villa and Virgil jumped down, offering me a hand to get down too.

Jeff dropped his legs back down and shook his head sadly. “You lost, Brains.”

“But t-the floor…” he trailed off, looking so confused that I felt very sorry for him. He didn't say another word, just backed out of the room like we might infect him with our dumb.

We watched him go, then shrugged and left him to it, we’re all used to him as much as he is with us. Really, he shouldn't be surprised to walk into a room and find us doing something weird, it's practically a given at the moment.

We went back to our previous activities as if nothing had happened.

Everything was quiet for maybe an hour or so before it happened again.

“The floor is lava!” Jeff yelled at the top of his lungs. 

This time I was ready for it, rolling head first over the back of the couch, squashing John in the process. Gordon was even quicker and sneakier, he slapped his hand to his fish tank and vanished into the hangers.

We waited out the claxon and then were free to move.

It was mid afternoon before it happened again. I watched Alan scale a palm tree like a monkey, John jumped and managed to catch hold of the basketball hoop and hung there until the claxon sounded. I was wise to this now (and rather lazy) and tossed my jacket down on the ground and stood on it.

Kayo managed to dodge out of the way and sit on a table as Virgil and Scott, who had apparently appointed themselves chief rescuers of stranded people, raced past with Brains strung between them, VIrgil with his legs and Scott with his arms as he screamed in terror. 

They heaved him onto a sunlounger and piled on top of him. The poor lounger buckled under their combined weight and collapsed to the floor in a mangled heap but apparently that still counted.

Brains extracted himself from the pile of limbs and got to his feet, straightening his glasses. He didn't look impressed.

“W-what is wrong with you all?” he demanded to know. “There is no lava! T-this volcano is extinct!”

“It is an ex-volcano,” John quipped as he dropped to the ground, earning him a round of sniggering from Scott and Virgil.

“It is bereft of life,” Scott joined in.

“It has ceased to be,” Virgil added.

“It’s metabolic processes are now history,” Gordon finished as they all started to laugh.

“It’s dead!” Brains yelled, clearly done with the day and done with us. “I would not w-waste my time b-building where a volcano might erupt. It will never erupt. It is extinct-”

“It has shuffled off this mortal coil,” Alan offered from his lofty perch, but Brains had clearly reached his limit of craziness for the day. I swear, if I looked close enough I’d have seen steam coming out of the top of his head as his mega brain struggled to compute.

“More than ten thousand years, that's how l-long a volcano must be dormant before it is classed as extinct. This volcano is…” he paused, looking at them all suspiciously and obviously deciding that now would be a good time to give up.

Grandma took pity on him, well someone had to.

“Brains, you do know it’s a game, right?”

“A game?” his face registered all kinds of emotions from shock, to disbelief and finally acceptance.

“Yeah, Brains,” Scott stepped in to help out. “You have five seconds to get off the floor before you're killed by the lava. We used to play it all the time as kids. Dad introduced it to us, it used to be in this really old game he played called Fortnite.”

“So, the object of the game is to avoid the, uh, imaginary lava?”

We all nodded.

“That’s it?”

We nodded again.

Brains just shook his head, clearly unable to believe that grown adults could be actively engaging in such nonsense.

“Come on, Brains, live a little, have some fun,” Virgil encouraged.

“Yeah, join in next time,” Alan pushed. “Even John plays with us.”

“Hey!” John protested.

“I have too much to do to be bothered with games,” Brains insisted, leaving us to it.

Gordon shrugged. “He doesn't know what he's missing.”

The comms were silent the rest of the day, although we were all on high alert. You know when you’re playing musical chairs at a party and you kinda walk really close to the chairs and almost hover your butt over them in case the music stops? That was us. We didn't stray far from something we could leap on and Jeff seemed to find this highly amusing, which just made us all the more suspicious.

I roped Virgil in to help me with dinner, mostly because he's the only one I trust to not mess around while rolling meatballs. We all relaxed while eating because it was an unspoken rule that mealtimes are sacred and all games must stop for food. A rule that I am fully on board with.

Jeff struck just after dinner, when we were all making our way to the lounge for movie time.

There was a mad scramble as we all tried to fit through the door at once, Gordon caught between Virgil and John as they both shoved their way through. Once again Virgil ran for the piano, lounging on top like a glamorous 50’s starlet. 

Alan was stranded at the edge of the room and in desperation he grabbed the first thing he saw and lifted his feet up like he was in the gym. Unfortunately the things he happened to grab were Scotts light fixtures and for the second time that day (just with a lot more yelping) one of them descended.

John was balanced with one foot on the couch and one on a side table while Scott was standing in one of the bucket seats. 

I got left behind and once again employed the island defence and threw my magazine on the floor and stood on it.

We were waiting for the claxon to go when we heard it. A whirling, mechanical kind of noise, getting closer…

Gordon was the first to burst out laughing from his perch half way up the bookcase as MAX zoomed past, beeping excitedly. But what was the real joy to see was Brains clinging to his back, a huge grin on his face.

“I forgot that I gave MAX a lava mode!”

Well, I think we all know who won that game.


	45. Day 45

Day 45 of isolation on Tracy Island and once again I've had a front row seat to just how competitive these boys are. 

I was feeling a bit stressy, you know how it is when you don't know why you're in a mood, but every little thing (and every single person) is annoying you? That was me. On the whole we'd been managing to get through this lockdown relatively peacefully, but there had been a few near misses where some of us had had to be separated for the good of the household. 

There's only one thing for me to do when I'm in this kind of mood…

"Right, I'm out, I need to bake!" I announced, slapping my hands down on my thighs (because I'm British and that's the only way we can announce that we're leaving anywhere) and left the lounge, heading to the kitchen. 

I started gathering my ingredients, piling up eggs, butter, sugar, flour, milk and assorted extras to throw in them. 

I flicked through my saved recipes on my tablet, but discarded most of them. It's never worth baking full size cakes in this place, they still treat them like an individual portion, I've seen Scott sneak off with an entire apple pie and found the dish in the dishwasher later that day as if nothing had happened. And don't get me started on Gordon when it comes to red velvet… where was I going with this? Oh yeah, so I decided that cupcakes were the way to go, even these boys won't dare to yoink an entire batch and run off with them (well they haven't so far).

I decided on lemon flavoured, chocolate and plain vanilla and made two batches of each. 

I was midway through the last two batches when Scott crept in. I saw him out do the corner of my eye, well his hand actually, sneaking towards my vanilla beauties. 

"Scott Tracy, stop right there!" I commanded, not even turning around (I do that mostly to freak them out and perpetuate the rumour that I actually do have eyes in the back of my head). "They aren't ready, they aren't even iced."

"Well hurry up and ice them, it can't be that hard." 

"You can't rush this! It's not always that simple."

"Doesn't look that hard." 

I turned my head just enough for him to see the look on my face. "You want them iced, you ice them." 

"That sounds like a challenge." 

"Oh no, you don't want to test me like this, boy. You can ask your brother how getting involved in a challenge match with me goes. Quick answer, don't."

Oh, I know that look, that's his stubborn Tracy look, which usually means he's about to be ridiculously reckless. At least he couldn't hurt himself in the kitchen, could he? 

"Bring it on."

"Fine!" I grabbed my oven gloves as the timer went off and yanked out the last two trays, slamming them down on the counter. 

"Round up the rest of the idiots, I'm gonna want an audience for your humiliation."

It turned out that they really are idiots, that or really bored, because twenty minutes later all five of them were standing in front of a batch of cupcakes and watching me intently as I went through a few basics. 

"OK, this thing is a piping bag. These are best for buttercream, or frosting as you lot call it. You can use them with a really thin tip with icing if you want to pipe tiny details or lettering."

It was a mixed bag of some of them trying to pay attention (John and Virgil) and others fiddling with the equipment in front of them and trying to eat some of the decorations. 

"I'm not going to tell you how to make anything, not buttercream or icing, because you are adults who can look up recipes for yourselves, but I will be available for help if you ask nicely, and I will be decorating my own so you can watch if you want to. You've got half an hour in which to create your masterpiece. You good?"

They all nodded, some more confidently than others, but it was still agreement so I was taking it. 

I set the timer on John's wrist comm and nodded."OK, start."

I grabbed one of the three mixers we possess (I have no idea why we have so many) and dumped in the butter and icing (powdered) sugar that I'd already measured out so they wouldn't get any hints. I set it mixing and selected a bottle of lemon flavouring and a pretty yellow food dye and added a few drops… 

"What are you doing?" I heard John ask in that tone that implies that he knows exactly what you are doing, he just can't believe you're dumb enough to actually be doing it. 

"Making buttercream," Alan replied. 

"Did you actually look up a recipe?" there was that disbelieving tone again. 

"It's buttercream, it's in the name, butter cream, I don't need a recipe for that," Alan informed him smugly as he continued to squirt what looked to be an entire can of whipped cream into a bowl full of butter. 

John's eyes slid my way and he winced as if to say 'I don't know how I'm related to him either'. 

Alan switched on the mixer, but being a boy he went straight in at max. We all ducked as butter and cream flew in all directions. 

Scott was doing slightly better, he was actually reading the back of the icing sugar box and muttering under his breath."Put sugar in a bowl and add the water slowly, mixing firmly… I can do that, how hard can it be to mix two things?" 

"Remember you can ask for help if you need it," I reminded them all. Scott snorted, he'd never ask for help, I knew that as well as he did. I also knew this was going to be a disaster. 

John checked something on his phone then actually reached for the scales. I knew there was a reason I love that man. 

Virgil had given John's recipe a cursory glance but was now "measuring" the artist's way, a little of this, a little of that and a pinch of something else, that looks about right. I watched him dip the tip of his pinky in the bowl he was mixing and give it an experimental lick. He looked mildly impressed. I hope that's a good thing and not that his taste buds were still fried from Grandma's curry three nights ago. 

He searched through the utensils on the table and selected a small palette knife and began to frost the top of his cakes (vanilla) in a slightly messy way. 

"It's a base," he told me confidently. "I saw it online, it's called dirty icing."

"Top marks that lad," I praised him. 

"Know it all," Gordon sneered good-naturedly as he mixed some caramel ice cream sauce into some icing sugar. 

"You saw it online?" Alan teased. 

"So I like to watch cake decorating videos, I find it relaxing, is that a crime?" 

"Are we forgetting that Gordon was the one playing bake off in the bath?" John reminded us in a tone that sounded innocent but was anything but. 

Gordon scowled at him. 

"Why is this dripping off?" Scott suddenly demanded to know, holding up one of his cupcakes, the icing running off it like water. "What's wrong with it?" 

"Need help?" I asked. It was obvious that he'd used far too much water. When it comes to icing a little goes a long way. You don't start with the consistency you want, you work up to it. 

"No," replied Mr Stubborn Pants. 

"There's no shame in asking for help," John commented. 

"Yes there is," he continued to dip his cupcake in the pool of water with its hint of icing sugar. 

As I watched, Gordon sprinkled a little pinch of salt into his sauce mixture. He tasted it. "Needs more." 

He added a little more and tasted again. "Nope, still not enough." A little more went in. "Nope." More than a little followed. "Still can't taste it." The salt pot was vigorously shaken over the bowl. I had to look away. 

"Fifteen minutes boys, you need to start decorating soon," I reminded them as I filled my piping bag and twisted the end closed ready to get to work. I'd picked a nice round nozzle and swirled out a nice topping in one smooth move. 

I glanced up and found four of them staring at me intently, so I slowed down my movements so they could see how it was done. 

Virgil was happily doing his own thing, he'd used half his buttercream on his dirty icing and had split the other half into 6 smaller bowls and had added a dash of colouring to each. Once that was done he proceeded to dab random splodges of coloured icing here and there as the mood took him. He was humming a little tune and seemed to be loving life at that moment. 

John came around to my side of the table and watched me pipe a couple more cakes, then wandered back to his own.

He selected a ridged nozzle and filled his bag with his buttercream mixture, which was coloured a light green, and got to work. The concentration on his face was interesting to watch. 

He twisted the bag closed but didn't quite have the hang of holding it shut and exerting pressure. One good squeeze later and he had a hand full of buttercream. I took pity on him and cleaned his hand with a wet cloth and then gave him a rubber band to hold it closed. 

The first two he managed to pipe were a bit of a mess, but they got better and he soon got the right pressure and speed to pipe them perfectly by the last four. 

Alan, who had been suspiciously quiet, was busy trying to spoon his butter and whipped cream slop onto his cakes. It kept sliding off, but he put that down to the butter melting. I let him live in ignorance. 

Virgil had picked up a spatula and had run it all around his cakes, smoothing and spreading the buttercream into pastel smudges, then he'd taken a fork and swirled it through the colours to give them a gentle mix. They actually looked really pretty, like an abstract painting, which was no surprise. 

I sprinkled my cakes with some edible glitter and topped them with little wafer flowers and called them done. 

John was already moving on to his final decorations. I reached over to turn his wrist and check the timer. 

"Four minutes!" 

A mad scramble began as panic set in. 

Gordon grabbed a tub of sprinkles and started throwing them randomly on top of his cakes. 

Scott had given up with his icing water and had retrieved another can of cream from the fridge that I'd been saving for hot chocolate topping and had started squirting a generous dollop on top of each cake. 

Alan had gone for broke and had a canister of sprinkles in each hand and was shaking them liberally over his cakes. 

"Hey! Watch where you're sprinkling," Gordon complained as Alan's blue sprinkles rained down on top of his rainbow balls. He retaliated with a handful of chopped nuts and tossed them at Alan's creations. 

"Quit it!" Alan yelled back, flicking some chocolate chips Gordon's way. 

"Both of you stop it!" Scott growled as his cream lost its shape and started melting. Desperate to disguise the mess he sliced up some strawberries and laid them on top. 

John was grating some chocolate over the top of his cakes with full concentration and didn't see the elbow coming until it was too late. 

Splat! Three cakes ended up on the floor and he was glaring at Gordon as if he was planning where to hide his body. 

"Sorry, John! Wasn't intentional, I can fix them!" 

"Gordon Cooper Tracy don't you dare pick those cakes up off the floor!" I yelled, diving over to smack his hand away. 

"I'm just trying to help," Gordon whined, rubbing his abused hand. He looked so pathetic that when he held his hand out to me I actually kissed it better. 

John's hand snuck out while Gordon was distracted and with a quick flick that reminded me of an annoyed cat, he knocked four of Gordon’s cakes off his tray. 

"John!" Virgil snapped as he looked up from the silver spray he was using to pretty up some of the wafer flowers just in time to see the cakes hit the deck. 

"My hand slipped."

"Sure it did. Slipped all the way over there?"

"I've got long arms."

Alan sniggered as he added cherries to the tops of his cakes. 

Scott was swearing under his breath as his strawberry slices sunk into the cream, John was mourning the loss of his cakes, Alan was eating his butter and cream concoction out of the bowl (and making me feel slightly sick), Gordon had stolen Virgil's silver spray and had obviously decided that bigger was better and was liberally spraying and Virgil was carefully placing his flowers on his cakes at a jaunty angle. 

John's comm beeped. 

"Time's up!" 

Everyone slumped, obviously glad to be done, though I did see Scott reach for a jar of sprinkles but I stopped him just in time. 

We called in the judges, Jeff, Kayo and Grandma. We asked Brains but he won't dare answer the call for him to taste something in the kitchen even if it is me asking. He's been burned before and never forgets. 

Alan went first, presenting his cake creations to the judging panel. 

"Remember, we're not judging the bake, just the decorations and taste of the toppings," I clarified, mostly because I didn't want anyone to be mean about my cakes should they find them unsatisfactory. I had to protect myself somehow. 

They all picked up a cake, studying it from all angles. 

"So, points for appearance?" 

The cakes were sloppy on top, kinda shiny and runny, in a little puddle on top and it looked like the cake was starting to go a little soggy. The decorations were numerous and varied, so much so that you could barely see what was supposed to be the cream. 

"It's enthusiastic," Jeff hedged. "5 out of 10."

"Colourful," Grandma agreed. "6 out of 10."

"It looks like a clown threw up on it," Kayo added. "4 out of 10." 

"And taste?" I asked, noting down his scores on John's phone as I couldn't remember where I put mine. 

They each bravely took a bite. 

"Crunchy," Jeff mumbled. "5 out of 10."

"Very crunchy," Grandma concurred. "I can't taste any buttercream, but I can taste butter, like how it would melt on pancakes. 5 out of 10."

"The cherry tastes nice," Kayo chewed. "I give it a 3 for the cherry. It's not awful, but it's not great either."

"Total score of 28."

Virgil stepped up next and presented his cakes with a dramatic flourish. 

"Ooooh," Grandma cooed. "They are pretty! 10 out of 10."

"Looks very nice, son. I'll give them a 9." 

"I like the swirls," Kayo smiled. "9 out of 10."

Virgil preened, he knew he'd done good. 

They were a lot more enthusiastic about biting into these ones which just goes to show that appearance does make a difference. 

"Hum, not bad," Jeff remarked. "The buttercream doesn't have a lot of flavour and with the cake being vanilla it's a little bland, but nice. 7 out of 10."

"It's edible, which in this kitchen makes it a winner," Kayo said, totally savage and uncaring as to who her fellow judge was. "But plain, the colours make it look like it should be fruity. 6 out of 10."

"I like it," Grandma shrugged. "7 out of 10."

"Total score of 48," I announced. 

Virgil fist pumped the air. 

Scott stepped up next, though he didn't look happy about it, dumping his tray down in front of them with a bang. 

"They look a little tired, " Grandma said. "6 out of 10."

"A bit like me," Scott grumbled. 

"The cream looks edible," Jeff said, trying to look on the bright side. "5 out of 10."

"Not good, but not too terrible either, 5 out of 10."

They were a little more optimistic in taking a bite than they had been with Alan's but less than with Virgil's. 

"Not bad," Grandma remarked. "I like the hidden strawberry, that's smart, like a little surprise, 7 out of 10."

"Yeah, the strawberry is good," Jeff agreed. "I give them a 7 too."

"There's an odd kind of sweet layer before the strawberry and under the cream, it's a bit weird," Kayo mused. "6 out of 10."

"Total of 36."

Gordon swagged forward, executed a sloppy bow and slid his tray onto the table. 

"I present to you the Tracy Chocolate and Salted Caramel delight."

They actually didn't look too bad if you ignored the little clumps of icing sugar in the caramel sauce that hadn't dissolved and the fact that the sauce had been dribbled on and then drowned in sprinkles and sprayed silver. 

"Interesting choice," Grandma acknowledged. "Very Gordon, I'll give them a 6."

"A little overwhelming but not too off putting," Jeff announced. "6 out of 10."

" You blinged your cakes. 5 out of 10."

They each took an experimental bite. The results were instantaneous as they all gagged. Grandma grabbed some paper towel and spat hers out, Kayo was less delicate and used her hand, while Jeff ran for the trash and spat it in, his shoulders heaving for a second like he was about to throw up. 

"What? What's wrong with them?" Gordon demanded to know. 

"Salt," Jeff panted, glugging down a glass of water. 

"Salt?" Gordon grabbed a cake and took a bite. "I can't taste any salt."

I took the cake off him and dipped my finger in the sauce and took a tiny lick, shuddering at the taste. Now I like salt but that was ridiculous. 

"Babe, that's all you can taste."

"I can't!" 

"You practically live in the sea," Virgil pointed out. "It's soaked into your pores." 

"And his brain," Scott quipped. "It's 90% salt soaked, he's aquatic."

Poor Gordon didn't receive any marks for taste and it took ten minutes and a number of drinks before the judges felt brave enough to sample John's. 

He placed the tray down, now only containing 9 instead of 12 and backed away. They looked cute, little light green rippled swirls on top and sprinkled with chocolate shavings and curls carved from a chocolate block. I'd eat them and not just because I'm biased. 

"They look quite nice, I like the pastel green," Grandma commented. "7 out of 10."

"Simple yet pleasant," Kayo agreed. "I give them a 6." 

"Nice," Jeff said simply. "7 as well."

They were a little more hesitant to take a bite, but pleasantly surprised.

"Oh, it's mint! Chocolate mint is the best combination," Kayo actually took another bite. "9 out 10."

"Very good," Jeff enthused. "9 out of 10."

"Perfect," Grandma beamed. "10 out of 10!"

"Total of 48. That's a tie with Virgil."

John and Virgil shared a high five and congratulations and commiserations were exchanged. 

"Who's going to help me tidy up? I asked. 

There was a round of groans but the losers were drafted in while the winners basked in their glory. 

It wasn't until later that night that I realised I still hadn't found my phone. I got Scott to ring it and we tracked it down to the baking cupboard, though I had no idea why it was in there. 

As usual I checked to make sure I didn't have any messages, my mum could get a little funny if I didn't answer in a short space of time, she's convinced I'm gonna die out here at some point, and honestly I can't blame her. 

To my surprise I had a lot of comments on my social media, most being quite encouraging "at least you tried," "practice makes perfect" but some were just laughy face emojis. Frowning I clicked on one… 

"Gordon!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. 

There on my page were a number of pictures of their creations, and the happy title of "been baking today, quite proud of myself." 

I swear, one day, I will kill him.


	46. Day 46

Day 46 of isolation on Tracy Island. 

"Alan, do we have to watch this idiot?" Scott asked, his tone one of utter despair. 

"Yeah, we do! It's a live stream and I promised Brandon that I'd watch."

"He's not out doing something stupid, is he?" 

"It's Brandon, so it's highly likely," Virgil commented. "Everything he does is stupid. But he should be in isolation too."

Alan rolled his eyes. "He's in isolation, he's live streaming his most popular videos and doing commentary and answering questions, that's why he wants me in the chat, because we feature in two of them."

"People actually want to ask you questions?" Gordon wondered, earning him a glare as Alan swivelled to face him. 

"Ow!" Alan yelped when his sudden movement yanked at his head. 

"Well stay still then!" I warned him, not letting go of his hair where I was painstakingly attempting to wrestle it into a French braid (don't ask, I don't know why either, it's not my place to question what happens in lockdown). 

Alan leant back against my legs again, turning his head back to the projector where Brandon's face was front and center and he was talking at top speed. 

"Urghhh now its gone wrong again," I brushed his hair out and started again for the fourth time, he just wouldn't stop moving. They had all grown a little long up top since lockdown but Alan's seemed to grow like a weed, leaving him looking vaguely like Shaggy from Scooby Doo but without the weird little beatnik beard. 

I sectioned off his hair and started working my way down from the top. 

We all sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the animated way that Brandon bounced around in the video playing behind his head. 

"How is that boy not dead yet?" Jeff asked, shaking his head in disbelief as they watched a replay of him and Scott inside a high altitude balloon. 

"Because we exist," Scott sighed, almost in unison with his image on the screen. If never seen Scott look so done with life as he had been at that moment. 

"He's a liability," Gordon agreed. 

"And coming from you, that's saying something," John laughed, nudging Gordon playfully with his foot. 

"Oh come on, Scott," Alan defended his friend, "you can't tell me that you never did anything remotely stupid when you were younger?" 

"Not like that I didn't," Scott insisted. Unfortunately his declaration was ruined by Virgil, who snorted in disbelief. "All of my risk taking had safety precautions in place, I actually had a clue of what I was doing."

"So we're not going to count the bread nap incident then?" 

Scott's eyes grew wider as he realised that his back up, his best friend, his partner in crime had just ratted him out. 

"Bread nap?" Alan grinned. 

"In college he once got so drunk that he was determined to get snacks. It was around 2:30am and so he walked to the 24hr store-" 

"Note that, I walked, because I was still sensible enough to not drink and drive," Scott insisted. 

"Shame you weren't sensible enough to remember that you can't actually bite into a pineapple like it's an apple," Virgil laughed. 

Scott scowled at him but Virgil would not be deterred. 

"He cut the inside of his mouth, bit his tongue and gave up. He then decided that the most comfortable looking place for a nap was on fourteen loaves of bread which he took off a shelf and arranged on the floor."

"I got a bill for the bread two days later," Scott admitted. "But if were talking about stupid things, aren't you going to tell Alan how you got your scar?" 

Virgil touched a finger to the little scar between his eyes. "It's not that interesting."

"He was in college," Scott started but Virgil was having none of it. He swung an arm out, intending to silence his older brother with a hand over his mouth, but Scott was too quick and dived out of the way, across the rug and around the coffee table to sit next to me. I snorted, like I'd protect him. 

"There was this girl he had been trying to impress for over a month," John joined in. Virgil shot him a look that spoke of the deepest of betrayals. 

"He saw her outside in the courtyard and instead of just walking down the stairs like any sane person, he decided to parkour his way down. He fell off the roof," John finished. 

"I did not fall off the roof!" Virgil protested. "I ran along the roof absolutely fine, I climbed down the wall and across the other roof just fine too. It was the dismount that got me. I jumped fine and my tuck and roll should have been perfect but there was a rock right in the way and…"

"And?" Alan asked, clearly loving life at that moment. 

"And he knocked himself out on a rock and split his eye open," Gordon howled, unable to see through the tears of laughter. "He was totally humiliated, it was so funny."

Even though Virgil had started this little confession session, Scott still felt the need to to defend him. "Yes, because you know nothing of humiliation, do you, Squid?" 

Gordon instantly sobered, his eyes narrowing in warning. "Don't you dare, that was not my fault." 

"What happened?" I had to ask. If it was Gordon it had to be bad. Alan settled back against my legs like it was story time, I'd given up on trying to braid his hair and was just brushing my fingers through it because he's pretty cute and it meant that he was actually sitting still for once. I could tame the beast! 

We were on vacation and Gordon had joined this unofficial surf club, they met up every day to show off to each other, "John told us. It didn't sound so bad yet, pretty normal for Gordon in fact, but the sly grin on John's face told me that the worst was yet to come. 

"He got wiped out by a huge wave and slammed around a bit and was a little disoriented when he popped back up. But, being Gordon he got straight back up and caught the next wave-" 

"I caught it perfectly, it was one of the most epic waves of the vacation. It held all the way to the beach," Gordon interrupted. 

"Oh, we know it was perfect," Scott laughed, obviously picturing the scene in his mind. "He struck a victory pose as he sailed up onto the beach, arms raised in triumph."

"I did wonder why no one was cheering," Gordon mused. "Usually everyone was very encouraging."

"They would have been if he hadn't lost his swimming trunks in the water and not just flashed the entire beach with such pride that he almost got banned from coming back."

Alan and I cracked up laughing. 

"The first I knew about it was when the lifeguard came over and told me I had to cover up. I went back to where I'd left my clothes but someone had stolen them." 

"He had to walk back to our beach house with a borrowed towel wrapped around his waist," John laughed. 

"I swear, if I'd of gotten my hands on whoever stole my clothes they would have been very sorry," Gordon seethed.

Scott started to laugh again and Gordons eyes slid in his direction. 

"It wasn't me," Scott promised. 

"Then who was it?" Gordon demanded to know. "John said it was someone on the beach."

Slowly, Virgil raised a hand causing another wave of laughter. Gordon stared at him, opened mouthed, shocked at the betrayal. "I thought I was your wing-man?" 

Virgil shrugged. "You were pretty annoying that vacation, I saw an opportunity and I took it. It's not my fault you didn't realise that the clothes had made their way back into your wardrobe when we got home."

John shook his head. "I'm related to idiots."

"At least I have you to look up to," Alan grinned. 

"Yeah right!" Gordon laughed. "John's the only one of us to ever have gotten suspended from high school."

"You what?" Alan goggled, his jaw dropping open in shock. 

"I can't imagine you doing anything that bad," I gasped. "That's so unlike you. What did you do?" 

John swept his fingers through his hair, the little curl at the front now more pronounced and threatening to blind him as it flopped into his eyes, obviously stalling. 

"He hacked the holoboard," Scott grinned. 

"If it was Gordon I'd say he'd have displayed something inappropriate," Alan offered. 

"Hey! I do have some self control you know!" 

I nudged John with my elbow. "Come on, admit it, I need details. Are you secretly a bad boy?" He ignored my suggestive eyebrow wiggle. 

"We had a substitute teacher for three months while ours was on maternity leave. He didn't know what he was talking about. I tried correcting him, out of consideration of my fellow students who deserved to be taught properly. Unfortunately, he didn't like being corrected and would try to argue and belittle my every point, so I stopped wasting my time and simply corrected the mistakes as he taught. If he'd known what he was doing it wouldn't have taken him three lessons to realise it," John sniffed, obviously still insulted that no one had appreciated his efforts. 

"Any other idiotic mistakes I need to know about, just so I can avoid them in the future?" Alan asked sneakily. 

John ruffled Alan's hair. "Tons, but the best advice I can give you is to not make Kayo's mistake."

Alan looked confused, what could he possibly do that Kayo had? 

"Don't get a perm," Virgil laughed. 

"Let's leave it as you don't ever use your brothers as an example of how to behave," Jeff chimed in. "Just listen to me, do as I say and you'll be fine."

"No, listen to me," Grandma called from her spot in the doorway. 

"Oh, Mother, how long have you been there?" 

"Long enough to hear how stupid my grandsons are." She turned to us. "Alan, don't listen to any of them, especially your father."

All eyes swivelled from Jeff, who had slumped in his seat in submission, then back to Grandma. 

"I found out at your father's passing out parade after he'd completed his basic training, that he and two friends had gotten themselves arrested in the town closest to the base. They had been told they were not allowed to use any of the vehicles to leave the base to go into town. This was supposed to discourage any unwanted behaviour. Your father, " she speared Jeff with a stern look,"and his friends had walked to town, enjoyed a number of drinks and been decidedly wobbly on their feet on the way back. In their drunk wisdom they had believed that their best option was to enter a farmers field and borrow three of his cows. The cows had come to a road and refused to cross it. That was where the police found them after the farmer reported the robbery."

All six of us stared at Jeff in utter disbelief, we were in the presence of a king.


	47. Day 47

Day 47 of isolation on Tracy Island and I walked into the kitchen to find a bowl of fish staring at me. 

"New pets?" I asked Gordon. 

"If they are I really should have looked after them better," he answered, poking at the ice that they sat on. "We went fishing this morning."

"I never would have guessed."

"We thought we could have a fish dinner on the beach tonight, you know, barbie and beer, it'll be the best fish you've ever tasted."

I made a face. "I'm not really a big fish fan, I prefer them battered and wrapped in paper, not judging me for wanting another cup of coffee."

"You don't like fish?" You'd swear I'd just told him I hate puppies. 

I shrugged. 

"You have to like fish."

"What, is that a law now? The law of the island?" 

"Yes."

I snorted. "Yeah, I'm gonna be breaking some laws then, bub." I pushed the bowl aside with a shudder of disgust and reached for the coffee pot. 

"Come on, live a little, just try them."

"So when you ask me to try something I'm supposed to agree but I ask you to eat a Yorkshire pudding and you pitch a fit."

"Thats different." 

"Why?" 

"Because you've heard of a fish."

I tried to argue his logic but it was really hard, so as I always do in cases like this, I went on the defensive. 

"Nope, batter and chips or nothing."

"Chips? Why would you eat chips with fish?" 

"Because you do. With salt and vinegar on them."

"Won't they get soggy? And what flavour?" 

"Flavour?" my brain whirled for a second before I caught his meaning. "Not crisps, chips, like fries, but fat ones."

He still looked baffled but pulled himself together. "OK, how about we do both? You make your battered stuff and your weird fries and I'll do my grilled fish and we'll see what's the best."

I thought about it for a moment or two, then held out my hand. "You're on." 

“You have to help prepare them though,"he threw in just as he grabbed mine and shook.

“What? No!” 

“The deal is struck,” the little sod grinned. Dammit.

Half an hour of convincing later and he had me standing beside him with a fish of my own and a sharp knife, neither of which I particularly wanted. 

“So first we’re gonna scrape all the scales off, using the tip and flat edge of our knife,” he got to work, rubbing at the fish as if he were shaving it. Just like doing my legs, I could do that. 

“I don’t want skin on my fish, I reminded him, not if it's gonna be battered.”

“We’ll get to that later, just get the scales off first.”

“Bossy,” I muttered, but did as I was told. We had some kitchen towel wrapped around the fish’s tail which made it a lot easier to hold but it was still icky and I knew the worst was still to come.

Gordon rinsed his under the tap and took a pair of kitchen scissors, I followed.

“Right, see this hole here?” he pointed with the tip of the scissors and I nodded. “That’s its butt. Stick your scissors in there-”

“I’m out!” I declared, dropping the fish in the sink. “Nope, I’d rather lose, but you know full well that no one else would blame me so you wouldn't get any glory from it anyway.”

I left the kitchen and went to hide with someone that would be nicer to me. I found Virgil first and decided he’d do. I flumped down next to him at the piano.

“You smell,” he greeted me.

“Thanks, love you too.”

“No, not you personally, you smell like fish.”

“Gordon tried to get me to poke its bum hole so I left.”

Virgil blinked, although he managed not to mess up, his fingers still dancing effortlessly over the keys, “I don’t know what to do with that information.”

“Neither did I, so I noped out of the situation and ran.”

“Good choice. He’ll end up doing yours for you anyway, he always does. He can’t stand to see fish prepared wrong so if you don't want to do it, just do it badly and then he’ll take over.”

“Pro tip!” I nodded. “Thanks for that.”

“Welcome.”

I reached out a finger to plonk a key, because it was just too tempting. 

“Go wash your hands, you aren’t stinking up my piano.”

I lifted my hands up innocently. “Think he’ll be done yet?”

“Probably, he’s pretty quick at it, but I’d give it anoth-”

“Stop hiding, I’ve finished the fish,” Gordon called up the stairs to the lounge.

“See?”

“Woop!” I jumped back up, using his shoulder as leverage , much to his disgust. “We’re having a competition.”

“Of course you are, but if it involves food I’ll happily judge.”

I did that pointy finger, winky eye, clicky tongue thing in answer as I trotted back down the stairs.

True to his word he had the fish all prepared, he’d even fileted and skinned mine. He might be a pain in the butt most days but he was a good boy where it counted.

“I need beer,” I announced.

“Is the thought of touching fish really that bad? It’s only 2pm.”

“For the batter,” I sighed, rolling my eyes. “Why does everyone think I want to drink all day every day? I’m only drinking on a saturday night for the quiz.”

“Because it's fun to watch you get annoyed when we say it,” he shrugged. See? He’s a sod.

I stole one of his beers for that comment, and after checking the recipe, assembled my ingredients and began to mix flour, beer, sparkling water, spices and baking powder.

“So you're basically making a cake for your fish?” Virgil asked, wandering through to get a drink.

“No, I’m battering it, you cretin. Fish and chips, the english food of summer and beach trips. Squidward wanted fish on the beach, that's what you're getting.”

“She means fries,” Gordon added just in case Virgil didnt understand me either. “I’m doing grilled fish and vegetable kebabs.”

“Wanna help me peel potatoes?” I asked Virgil, who was the quickest peeler I knew.

“Sure.” Bless his chonky heart, he’s always ready to help, especially if food is involved.

Virgil peeled and I chopped, making a mound of fat chips which I threw into a pot of water to par-boil ready for frying later.

Gordon had barely done anything to his fish, just rubbed some seasoning and oil into the skins and laid some lemon slices on top. Apparently simple was key, I told him that was a good thing if he was in charge. He threw a slice of lemon at me.

We stored all the prepared food in the second fridge and wandered off to wait for evening.

At around seven that night we had everyone assembled outside, some around the barbecue and some just lounging around waiting to be fed.

They had one of those fancy pants grills that have two gas rings on one side, which was needed for me to heat up two massive pans of oil. I had a flashback to the donut incident and was very grateful that Grandma wasn't involved this time and that she hadn’t fed me cooking sherry.

I had a few near misses with splattering oil and it took me a while to get the dip and slip action just right ( that was what I was calling the dipping in batter to coat the fish and then letting it slip and slide into the oil) but we got there in the end.

The chips were frying nicely and we’d managed to get vinegar from a jar of pickled onions, which was perfect for me as I prefer onion vinegar on my chips anyway.

Gordon had these weird fish cages, where he trapped the fish inside and just turned the whole thing to cook the other side instead of flipping. 

It was supposed to be a competition but since it was just the two of us I obviously hadn’t triggered his competitive Tracy gene which is only activated in the presence of his siblings. It was actually quite nice to chill with him for a bit, we got into a nice rhythm and managed not to get in each others way too much. 

When he was busy with his fish and his veggie kababs were getting a little too charred I turned them all for him, he in turn rescued a batch of chips as I had my hands covered in batter. See, we could be civilised.

We dished out food like it was a canteen, everyone lining up with plates. We didn't want people to have to choose whose food they wanted to try so we gave them some of everything and then all trooped down to the beach where Scott and Virgil had already lit the firepit.

Gordon's fish was ok, but I didn't like the fact that it still looked like a fish, its eyes were staring at me and I was plucking around its bones, which just wasn't for me, but the veggie kebabs were nice so I gave Scott the fish to finish.

I looked over to see Alan holding the entire piece of battered fillet in his hand and biting into it like it was a slice of pizza...I honestly don't know how his brain works sometimes. 

“Back home we have tiny wooden forks for the fish and chips,” I told him, which blew his mind. I had to get my phone out and show him pictures of them.

“So, who’s fish was the best?” Gordon asked once everyone was done eating, although Alan was still doing his impression of the seagulls from Nemo and snaffling left overs with little yelps of “Mine” every time someone abandoned a plate. I was currently feeding him chips as he sat patiently with his mouth open.

“I like them both,” Jeff hedged. “But the beer batter was interesting.”

“Batter is a little too crispy for my tastes,” John mused, nibbling on a piece of batter he’d picked off my plate.

“I like the fat fries,” Alan mumbled around a mouthful of said chips.

“I liked the lemony taste of the fish,” Virgil added.

“So who won?” I asked. 

Everyone shrugged.

We decided in the end that we didn't care who won, it had just been fun to cook and hang out on the beach and chill. Sometimes that's all you need in life, sorry we weren't more exciting but this is just a normal family that is coping with things the way that everyone else is.

They want to be out there helping people and doing things like normal, but they can't and it’s definitely starting to impact on them a lot, so if chilled days and enforced rest is all we can do, then were going to make the most of it.


	48. Day 48

Day 48 of isolation and I just walked in on Virgil sitting on Gordon who was squeaking like a deflating pool toy. I didn't know why. 

"Erm, Virg, why are you trying to flatten Gordon?" 

"Because." 

"Oh, that clears up that mystery, thank you."

I still didn't know why. 

"Scott!" I yelled, "why is Virgil trying to make a pancake out of the Squid?" 

A lack of answer left me none the wiser. 

I bent down to get a closer look. "Gordo, what did you do?" 

His muffled response told me nothing, especially when Virgil bounced. 

"Just try not to kill him, OK?" 

"Can't promise anything," Virgil glared and made the punishment worse by rubbing his knuckles vigorously on the top of Gordon’s head, making him screech like a fire alarm. 

One thing I knew about Virgil was that he never punished without good reason, couple that with the fact that it was Gordon meant that he probably deserved it. 

"I'm out!" 

Gordon protested (I think) but I wasn't about to get involved any further. I left them to it. 

I found John sitting at the kitchen table, working quietly on something. I poured myself a cup of coffee and topped up his mug. 

"Thanks."

"No worries," I opened the drawer to get out a teaspoon, feeling the need for sugar today. 

"Why is there a brown sock in here?" 

"I have absolutely no idea," he didn't even look up to inspect the sock I was flapping like a Victorian woman's hankie as she waved her husband off to sea. Sighing I tucked it into my pocket to put with the others. 

So far I'd found a sock under my mug, one in the fruit bowl, one in a plant pot, one tucked inside a copy of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix , one hanging from the underside of a sun parasol, one in the bathroom and one inside the fridge. Now this one would join the pile. Thankfully they all seemed to be clean and not just plucked from dirty feet and dumped in random places, but you never could tell in this house. 

I plonked down opposite him. Hey, maybe he'd know what was going on, he knew everything. "Any idea why Virgil is using Gordon as a chair?" 

John swiped his screen. "Yeah, he was trying to play the piano with his feet," he answered distractedly. 

"His feet? How? Why? I have so many questions!" 

"Because he was dared to." 

"What? Who would even dare him to do that?" 

"Huh? Oh, someone he knew from his WASP days, Griffiths I think it was. Gordon had to sit on the top of the piano and try to play three blind mice with his toes, Griffiths had to prank the Angels."

"He did? And did he do it?" 

John head snapped back up again, I swear the second he stops talking he loses all focus on other people. "Erm, yeah, he hacked into their phones-" 

"I wonder who gave him that idea," I grumbled. 

"He hacked into their phones and changed the names of their contacts. So far Destiny told Rhapsody that her hair looked awful, Symphony told White that she thought his butt looked cute in those pants today and Melody text Magenta to ask if she could borrow his mascara."

I bit my lip, trying not to laugh, I didn't succeed."How do you even know all of this?" 

He slid my phone over to me. "Your group chat keeps going off." 

I took the phone and scrolled through the messages. "Oh yeah, they're not having a good day, Symph is just glad she only had time to send the one text meant for Adam and Rhaps says that someone put flour in the hairdryers in the girls locker room too. I'm assuming that was Green too?" 

"Probably," he stabbed at something on his tablet and sighed in frustration. 

"OK, what's wrong? I'm not usually this awful to talk to."

He lifted his head to look at me again and his hair flopped into his eyes. He brushed it back with a firm hand, like that would help. 

"You know, you kinda got this whole Disney prince thing going on." 

His glare told me to stop talking. I raised my hands in surrender and sipped my coffee. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to snap, I'm just busy."

"Busy busy, or John busy?" I never take his moods personally, he puts up with a lot on a daily basis and I'm very quick to forgive. John busy was the name I gave it when he was finding things to do and taking on extra work he didn't really need to do. 

He thought about it for a few seconds then admitted it. "Me busy." 

"Then you can take a few hours off."

"I really want to get this done."

"Nope, I'm putting my foot down," I stamped my foot for emphasis. "You've been doing nothing but reading tech guides and tweaking things for the last week, you need a break. You've got as long as it takes me to make and pack lunch to finish whatever you were just doing or I'll drag you out by your Disney bangs."

He looked like he wanted to argue but gave in gracefully."Fine."

When we returned a few hours later we found Gordon tied to a palm tree. 

"Hey, guys, help your favourite brother, will you?" 

John's eyes raked him up and down, assessing his predicament, but made no move to help. 

"What did you do this time?" I demanded to know. 

"Nothing!" 

John and I snorted in unison. 

"I didn't! I was going to, but didn't actually do it."

"Was that because you had a change of heart or got caught before you could finish?" John asked. 

"Mostly the second one," he admitted. 

I sighed and made my way behind him to inspect the rope around his wrists. 

"Oh no! I'm not touching this. That's a Scott knot. One, I won't be able to undo it, and two, you probably deserved it. I'm not getting involved. You'll have to wait for him."

Gordon's protests followed us inside where I allowed John to reclaim his tablet and I went to bug Brains for technical questions for the next Quiz night. 

I'm sure Scott will release Gordon eventually.


	49. Day 49

Day 49 of isolation on Tracy Island and I spotted Scott skulking around the house at least four times before lunch. 

I had no idea what he was doing but it made him look like a cross between Sherlock Holmes and Steve Irwin. He was darting here and there, lifting up pillows, blankets, chairs and searching in corners. But, most puzzling of all, he was also shredding a lettuce and sprinkling it in each room. 

I watched him for over an hour before I decided that he might need help, either in his quest or by locking him up because he'd obviously gone quarantine crazy. 

I tapped him on the shoulder, making him jump out of his skin. 

"Holy Hell, don't do that!" 

"Sorry," I wasn't sorry at all, it had been hilarious. "What are you doing?" 

Scott looked all around, the epitome of shifty brother, then leaned in close to whisper in my ear. 

"They escaped."

I frowned. "Gordon and Alan? Did you tie them up again?" 

"No, Buddy and Ellie."

My eyes widened. Scott and I loved those beardies, we went in to feed and snuggle them every night, though they had to live in Scott's office now, because Gordon just wouldn't cope with them anywhere else. 

"We have to find them! Our babies are out there somewhere, Scott!" 

"I know! I know, but I've been searching for them for the past three hours."

"I think we need backup." 

"Who?" 

"John, he's got this place wired, I'm sure he can hunt them down or at least spot where they went."

Scott nodded. "OK, he's safe enough to tell, you go get him though."

"On it!" 

I raced down to the lounge, skidding to a halt as I reached the door, I walked in as casually as I could. I'm the queen of casual, me. They would know something was up if I didn't play it cool. 

"Hey," I called out from the doorway. John and Alan were playing a game of chess and Virgil was kicked back in one of the bucket seats, doodling on a pad. 

A chorus of hellos greeted me. 

"Sorry to break up the chess game, but can I borrow John for a few minutes?" 

"Why? What's wrong?" John immediately asked, even the alert space monitor even if he was currently stuck down here. 

"Nothings wrong, why does something always have to be wrong?" 

"Because I know you?" 

"Nothings wrong, I just," I scrambled, why did he always throw me like that? "I just want to show you something erm…in the bathroom." I closed my eyes in utter horror. Bathroom! Why the heck did I say that? "I mean bedroom. Yeah, I just…yeah."

I backed out before anyone could argue with me, relieved to hear footsteps following, along with Alan's puzzled voice. 

"What do you think she wants to show John in the bedroom?" 

Luckily, Virgil declined to comment. 

I grabbed John's hand and towed him down the hall, veering off towards Scott's office where I'd left him. 

"Erm…where are you dragging me? Bedroom's that way," he nodded over his shoulder. 

"Shhhh," I begged, opening the office door, shoving him inside and slamming the door behind us. 

"Oh good, you got him," Scott got off the floor where he had been looking under the filing cabinet and stood up. 

One of John's eyebrows rose when he saw his brother there. 

"I have no idea what's going on but I can already tell it's going to be decidedly less fun that I had been envisioning." 

"Scott lost the lizards," I didn't waste time messing around and just threw him straight under the bus. 

"Thanks for that."

"Both of them?" John confirmed. 

We nodded. 

"We kinda need a little help to find them."

John rolled his eyes. "I'm only ever wanted when I'm providing help."

"Hey! Unfair, I want you more often than that!" 

"Can we do this later and get on with finding Buddy and Ellie, please?" Scott interrupted. 

"Fine, but if Alan has moved my chess pieces, I'm blaming you two," John took a seat at Scott's desk and logged into his computer. 

"Hey! How do you know my password?" 

John didn't dignify that with an answer. He just tapped a few keys on the screen, which booted up the projector and got to work. 

"I've located a number of life signs in the house, as expected, now I'm going to cross reference them with each individual and take them out of the equation," he informed us as he worked. I just nodded, I mean, what else could I add that would actually be of use? 

"OK, one small blib heading north east and," he paused and got up from the chair and crossed the room, extracting Ellie from the depths of a spider plant. "One here."

"Well that was easy," I grinned, taking the lizard and cuddling her to my chest. "So where's Buddy?" 

John returned to the desk and a moment later Scott's comm watch beeped. "Coordinates sent, you should be able to follow him now and track him down."

"Oh no, you aren't leaving this up to us," Scott warned him, taking Ellie from me and putting her back in the tank, sliding the door lock firmly into place. "Gordon cannot find out about this, he'll freak out."

"And it's going to look a bit suspicious if you go back and I don't," I pointed out. 

"What excuse did you use?" Scott asked. 

"Never mind that now!" I cut in before John could answer. "Let's just get the baby before he gets hurt."

We followed the little blinky dot that was Buddy, and for a lizard he was making pretty good time. 

We tracked him down to the corridor near Brains' lab. 

"There!" Scott pointed, catching sight of Buddy huddled against the wall. We stopped jogging and crept forward. 

"Hey, Buddy," Scott crooned softly. "Just stay right there while we grab you, OK?" 

I followed behind, just in case I was needed. Scott dived down but was too slow, or Buddy was too quick, either way he was off like a streak of lightning, darting between Scott's legs and scuttling off. 

"Catch him!" John yelled, "he's heading for the…vent," he finished as Buddy slipped through a gap in the slatted vent and vanished. 

"Crap!" I yelped, laying down to see if I could spot him. "Quick, get this open!" 

Scott, legend that he is, plucked a multitool from his belt and unscrewed the panel. 

"Get him out," I demanded, my mothering instincts screaming.

"I'm not going to fit in there."

"Neither am I," John insisted. 

"Urghh," I made a face, sticking my head inside. It was a dusty, grotty, spider webby mess. I shuddered in revulsion. "OK, but if I get stuck I'm blaming you two!" 

I lowered myself to my belly and pulled myself forward, I could see him just a little way ahead. I inched forward a little more and made a grab for him. 

I managed to catch him as he darted away and tucked him in close to my chest. 

"Ah."

"What's wrong?" John called into the hole, probably getting a not so fantastic view of my butt. 

"I can't get out because I'm holding him. Hang on."

Wiggling carefully, and with a lot of huffing and protective cradling of the beardie, I managed to flip over onto my back. And looked up. 

There was the most enormous, evil looking eight legged beastie I'd ever seen in my life. Give me a tarantula any day, but a house spider, no thanks. 

"Get me out, get me out, get me out!" I screamed as it started abseiling closer to my face. 

A pair of hands grabbed my legs and yanked. 

"Ow! My hair!" the long strands had caught on something and tugged but it didn't seem to have done any damage. 

The spider, seeing its victim about to escape, made a leap for freedom and landed on my shoulder. 

I screamed like I was being murdered, legs flailing. I heard an ooof and felt my foot connect with something soft and likely male, but the hands on my legs tightened and I was hauled out. 

"Get it off! Get it off! It's on me!" 

Scott grabbed for Buddy. 

"Not him! The spider!" 

"What spider?" 

I froze in a mixture of terror and absolute horror. Where was it? 

"Take the lizard," I bit out between clenched teeth, intending to get him to safety and then strip off every single item of clothing until I found the bloody thing. 

Scott took Buddy and lifted him away gently, it was then that I saw them, three legs hanging out of his mouth. 

I slumped in relief, almost crying. 

"My hero!" 

"Thanks," John said, letting go of my legs and offering me a hand up. 

"Not you," I informed him, taking his hand and letting him drag me to my feet. 

"That's nice, I get interrupted, dragged away from my game with a promise that you did not fulfill, I just got you out of the wall and now I'm useless?" 

Now that my heart rate was returning to normal, I could think straight and slumped against him. "That thing wanted to eat me, I just know it."

"I think you're a little big for it," he informed me, giving me a hug and on my insistence, checking my hair for any hitchhikers. 

Once I was declared bug free, Scott reunited Buddy with Ellie and we made our way back to the lounge. 

Gordon, Alan and Virgil all looked up as we entered, their eyes going from John holding my hand, to me with my clothes a dirt smudged, wrinkled mess and my hair sticking up all over the place, to Scott grinning like an idiot. 

Gordon grinned evilly. "Well, looks like you had fun." 

I shook my head, collapsing down on the couch. 

"Believe me, you don't want to know."


	50. Day 50

Day 50 of isolation on Tracy Island and Gordon was either the first to notice or the only one with a death wish.

He leant over the back of the couch and ruffled his fingers through my hair. 

Awww, he's being sweet, I thought, leaning my head closer and turning to give his cheek a kiss. He's so cute. 

He did it again, but this time less affection and more monkey searching out a flea. Then he opened his mouth. 

"So THAT'S your real hair colour!" 

I clamped my hands down onto top of my head in shock. "What? No! How dare you!" 

"It's almost the same colour as mine, maybe a touch darker, more of a very light brown," he mused. 

"Lies!" I hissed and grabbed my phone, using the camera as a mirror to inspect the damage. Yep, he was right, while they were getting shaggy up top, I was gaining roots that would do a tree proud. 

"Hey, Virg, what colour would you say that is?" 

"I need to go shopping! Who's taking me?" 

"I thought we were only supposed to go out for essentials," Virgil asked innocently.

"This is an essential!" I yelled. "I'll get all the food and stuff we need too, just make me a list, but I need to go right now! JOHN!" 

They all scrambled for paper and pens to make their lists. 

"JOHHHHHNNNNN! I HAVE TO GO SHOPPING, RIGHT NOW!" 

"Did someone say shopping?" Grandma popped up like she'd been summoned from a lamp. 

"Where's John?" 

She pointed up. 

"Dammit! Scott, you know I love you…"

"Nope, not gonna happen."

"Pffft, fine." I looked around helplessly, giving them all sad eyes and pouty bottom lip. It didn't work. I turned my attention to Virgil, narrowing my eyes. “I don’t have any dye left at all.”

Virgil's eyes grew wider as he caught my meaning, jumping to his feet. "Come on then." 

"Yes! Thank you!" I jumped up and skipped after him as Grandma gathered the lists of the things they deemed essential. Not that I was going to moan, essential is relative in a time like this. 

Soon we were aboard the big green flying machine and I've never seen Virgil happier, he hadn't had nearly enough time with his baby lately. 

"Virgil? Is everything OK?" John popped up in holographic form above the control panel, ever vigilant, or nosy depending on who you asked. "We haven't had any emergency calls." 

Virgil pointed a thumb over his shoulder to where Grandma and I sat in the back. We waved. 

"What's going on?" 

"I need to go shopping because Gordon was mean to me."

John's arms crossed in a gesture we've all seen a million times before from him. I'm pretty much immune now. 

"He was mean and shopping is the answer?" he didn't look like he believed me. 

I nodded, then pointed to my head. "I'm hideous."

"And overdramatic," Virgil muttered to himself. 

"You are not hideous," John assured me. 

"I am until I get some hair dye. Don't look at me!" I slid down inside Scott's stolen hoodie like a goblin. 

"Is that all? You've had outgrowth for two weeks."

My mouth dropped open in horror and I poked my head back out. 

"You did not just say that…"

"John, it's best you shut up, a woman can be very sensitive about her hair, " Grandma intervened. 

"I've seen her teenage pictures, lighter wasn't that bad. " No one ever said John was sensible when it came to women, I'm proof of that. 

"You've seen my blonde stage?" I moaned in utter despair. How had he… "Where did you see those?"

"Your mother."

“Oh that's it, she's off the christmas card list.”

He snorted.

“I’ve seen your blonde stage too, Bud!” I reminded him.

"You know that was Gordon's fault."

"And you retaliated with red, we know," Virgil cut in. "Let's not do this now. I'm just going to take the ladies shopping, pick up some essentials and we'll be home before you are."

"Are you sure? You don't need backup?" 

"Situation is under control."

"You're braver than I am, big brother." John cut off before I could yell at him some more and Virgil could change his mind.

“Wimp,” I muttered. “You see if I bring him anything nice back from shopping.”

Once at the store we each took part of the list and prepared for battle.

“We're just here for essentials,” Virgil reminded us, though he knew it was futile, we weren't listening. “Remember the social distancing, use your sanitizer and don't-”

“Enough,” Grandma interrupted him, “we’ll be fine.”

I know she said it would be fine but I couldn't help being a little on edge, it was weird being out in the world with people after so long with just the family and I held my sanitizing spray a little tighter, just in case someone tried to steal it from my hands (I'd heard a lot of stories recently) . The world needed my boys and I was not prepared to risk any of them.

We hadn't gotten more than four feet inside when a member of staff stepped out in front of Grandma.

“Back!” I yelled, acting on pure instinct, spritzing him in the face. “She’s over 70. She’s vulnerable!”

“I’m old, not an idiot,” Grandma huffed, pushing past me. “I don’t need babysitting, I can tell people to shove off on my own.”

Just to prove her point she practically sprinted down the aisle and vanished. I looked at Virgil, who shrugged and left to get his own items. 

I quickly located the precious, grabbing a few extra boxes just in case we couldn't make another trip any time soon, then got down to tracking down my list items. 

Mine were relatively easy and I was done in less than half an hour. Grandma though, had become a little distracted and, after meeting up with the big guy, we tracked her down. 

"OK… I don't… I mean…I'm not sure what to do," I stuttered to Virgil upon turning down an aisle and finding Grandma staging a sit in on top of a pallet of cereal. 

"No! I saw them first!" she insisted to a very harassed looking woman. "Wait until my Grandson- there he is!" 

Virgil didn't say a word, he just waited until Grandma slid down, hoisted the entire thing onto our trolley and walked away. Grandma gave the woman a haughty 'told you so' look and sailed after him like the queen she is. 

After that it didn't take us too long to complete our mission and soon we were packing all the bags and boxes into the belly of Two and heading back.

We dumped the bags in the lounge so everyone could pick up their orders, Virgil tossing me the dye boxes.

“Need help again?” he asked as I headed to the bathroom and I nodded, well versed in the cover up. 

It amazed me that no one else had noticed that there was more than one of us with very black hair that had been in need of a touch up…


	51. Day 51

Day 51 of Isolation on Tracy island and I’d grown so bored that I'd resorted to desperate measures. I spent the entire morning, and part of the afternoon catching up on the fan mail posts that the boys didn't know they had, on a forum they didn't know existed. Well, it wasn't like they were going to do it. 

“Virgil's favourite colour?” I asked myself, tapping away on my laptop. "Gotta be green, I mean…" I lifted my head to seek him out. "Virg! What's your favourite colour?" 

“Green,” he answered instantly. That's one thing i love about that boy, he hardly ever questions my random outbursts.

I nodded and moved on to the next. "Alan's favourite food…does anything count?" I mumbled under my breath. "He's not hard to please...no, they want a real answer from him…Allie? What would you say is your favourite food?”

“Mac and Cheese,” he answered. "Why?" 

I ignored him as I typed out my answer and hit send before moving on to the next. “Scott, what aftershave do you wear?”

“That one you got me for christmas, why?”

I typed out ‘Only The Brave: Wild’ in answer and hit send. I was on a roll now! Next! 

“Gordon, boxers or briefs?”

“Briefs.”

I nodded and typed again.

“What are you doing?”John popped up like a ninja meerkat, his face right next to mine, nosing at my laptop screen. "Fan forum?" 

"I decided to be your press secretary, because the fan mail is piling up and none of you are bothering to answer it. It's not like I've got anything else to do right now."

"We have fan mail?" 

I rolled my eyes. "Of course you do, you have very dedicated fans you know."

"We do?" Gordon asked, suddenly interested in what I was doing. 

"Have you guys seriously not paid any attention to this?" 

They all shook their heads in unison, each looking as bewildered as the other. 

"Oh lawd you're all useless." I hit the back button a few times and scrolled through the posts then turned the screen so they could see it . "This is your official fan page, set up by the president of your fan club and none of you knew about it?" 

Again with the head shakes. 

"Men," I snorted, going back to my work. I was left in peace for all of two seconds before the questions started. 

"What kind of fan mail?" 

"Who's their favourite?" 

"Is it weird on there?" 

"Fan mail from your fans, there is no one favorite and it can be, " I answered. 

"No favourite?" Alan confirmed. 

"Nope, you all have your own teams." 

"Teams?" Scott's eyebrows rose in question. 

"Yep, Virgil's Virtuosos, Alan's Angels, Gordon's Sirens, Scott's Spitfires and John's Stars."

They all looked quite pleased with their little fan gangs, chatting quietly amongst themselves, leaving me in peace which was fine by me as I was trying to concentrate dammit. 

I was tapping away, doing my thing, answering questions on practically everything when I realised that something felt off about the scene before me. 

Over the course of an hour the boys had been randomly getting up and wandering off, but that in itself wasn't that weird, they often got bored and vanished to parts unknown, they would come back eventually. No, the weird thing was when I asked Virgil a question and Scott answered. 

"Virg, what's the longest you've ever spent on your hair?" 

"Six hours," Scott replied. I frowned at my screen, that didn't sound right. 

"Is your name Virgil?" I asked sarcastically, finally looking up…"Why are you wearing plaid?" Those jeans looked a little baggy too. 

Come to think of it, why was John wearing Gordon's hawaian shirt? That was just…wow, not good. 

"OK, that's disturbing…" those rolled up, ripped jeans were not a good look on him, especially since they were almost to his knees. And his hair. "What happened to your hair?" I wailed. Oh the humanity! 

Scott was apparently on a roll, because he was on his feet and posing like Arnold Schwarzenegger and his hair, gods his hair! Instead of his nearly slicked back (if a little long now) look, he had attempted Virgil's trademark cockscomb. He looked like he'd been electrocuted. 

My eyes slid to Alan who was drowning in Scott's favourite blue shirt that he had been wearing not half an hour before, and I couldn't see his feet, the pants were so long. Allie's hair was neat for once and smoothed to perfection (he had to have had help with that). 

Gordon was wearing Alan's T-shirt and his cargo pants and…well he didn't actually look too bad, he was passable.

But Virgil… 

"Oh my lawd, Chonky what did you do?" 

The big guy was squeezed into John's shirt and when I say squeezed, I mean bulging at the seams, how were those buttons even connecting, he could barely move, his arms were sticking out at right angles, tight. I wouldn't dare let my eyes stray. Don't look down, don't look down, I chanted to myself, because I know my boy can pull off tight pants (have you seen that spacesuit?) but John does not have the thunder thighs that Virgil does and…my eyes dropped lower without my say so. 

"Eeep," I camped my hands over my eyes and counted to ten before I opened them again. Virgil's hair was safe to look at…no it wasn't! 

I immediately started laughing, I couldn't help it. He'd attempted to replicate John's style (I think) but had ended up with something more like a 1940's victory roll going on up front. I leant closer, what was that? 

"Is that a toilet paper tube?" 

He nodded, looking rather proud of his efforts. 

I shook my head in utter disbelief at what I was witnessing. 

"Ask us more questions," Gordon said once Scott finally stopped doing his muscle man impression and sat down. 

For lack of anything else to do in the situation, I did as I was told. 

"Gordon, what is your favourite time of day?" 

"Bedtime," John answered for him. "Because then I get to sleep and dream of how awesome I am."

I raised an eyebrow at this but dutifully wrote it down anyway. 

"Scott, why are you always frowning?" 

"Because I'm the one that has to deal with idiots all day long," Alan answered. 

"No, that's me," I muttered as I typed out the answer. "John, why do we never see you?" 

"Because people make my big brain hurt," Virgil answered for him. "And I'd rather hide away than deal with them."

"I actually can't argue with that one," John admitted. 

"Alan, if you could meet anyone, who would it be?" 

"An alien," Gordon responded. 

And so it went on, each of them trying to outdo the other, turning my simple question and answer session into a Tracy family roast. 

Finally I ran out of questions, mostly because I was laughing too much to actually think. 

"Oh Gods, if the people in this forum could see you all now," I laughed, wiping tears from my eyes. "That would be some high quality fan fiction fodder right there." 

"Some what now?" Scott asked. 

"Fan fiction, you know, stories people write?" 

"Wait a second, are you saying there's stories out there about us?" Virgil asked. 

I nodded slowly, like they were too dumb to understand otherwise. 

Their faces were a mixture of utter horror and morbid fascination. 

John plonked down next to me and stole my tablet to have a look. He skimmed through a few, his nose creasing, eyebrows furrowing.

"Gordon," he announced, "I hate to tell you this but you just died."

"I died?" the poor squid looked horrified by the idea. 

"So did Scott, and Virgil's just lost a leg."

"So you came out of it fine?" Scott grumbled. 

"No, my craft just blew up and I'm currently floating through space. Might I request that someone go and retrieve my body?" 

Scott took my tablet from him and did some scrolling of his own. "Why is this version of me having a lot more fun and action?" he grumbled. 

Virgil leant over his shoulder to look, and we heard a loud ripping noise as John's shirt lost its battle with Virgil's shoulders. 

"Yes!" I cheered. "Can you wear his dressing gown next?" 

OK…so I might have earned that glare. 

"I'm very dashing and romantic," Virgil grinned. "The ladies must love me."

"What am I doing?" Alan demanded to know. 

"Pouting and complaining," Gordon answered, snatching the tablet from Scott and flicking through until he found his own name mentioned. His face morphed from a cheeky grin to utter disbelief. 

"What…what am I doing? Why am I doing that? Stop me doing that!" Gordon yelpled, flinging the tablet back in my direction like I was mistress of the Internet and could fix all his problems. I just about caught it before it hit the edge of the table and checked the screen. 

"Gordon, I'm sorry, but you are indeed trying to have…relations with that shark," I informed him solemnly. "I also advise that you don't let it bite you there, I might be a little delicate."

Scott burst out laughing, closely followed by Virgil and Alan. 

"And unfortunately, I can't stop it," I finished. 

"Why does that even exist?" Gordon groaned, hiding his face on his hands. 

John took the tablet from me and kept flicking. "Huh, I've got a really cute boyfriend here," he turned the screen to show me. 

"Oooh, he is cute, can we share him?" 

"Sure," he read a little bit more. "He actually does remind me of my first crush."

"Is he still single?" 

"What, I'm not enough for you?" he nudged me with an elbow but had that little half smile on his face that told me he was teasing. 

"Of course you are, plus I do already have Scott as my backup."

"Yeah, don't forget about me."

"Never," I blew him a kiss. 

"Gordon has a boyfriend too," John pointed out, "and I don't mean the shark," he passed the tablet over. 

"That's better," Gordon agreed, reading ahead. "Uh oh! Someone crashed Two."

"What?" Virgil dragged the tablet away to check. "Why would they do this to me?" 

"It's called whump, and you appear to be one of their favourite victims," I lifted John's arm to snuggle into his side, lacing my fingers with his where they rested on my shoulder. 

"Whump?" Virgil confirmed. 

"Yep," I nodded. "Basically, if they can hurt you, kill you, make you cry, break a limb or your heart, it'll be there."

Poor guy looked devastated. "I thought they loved us?" 

"They do. That's why."

"That makes no sense!" Alan wailed, finally breaking his silence. Somehow he'd gotten hold of the tablet and he was reading through some of the offerings. "I have a concussion, a broken arm and a punctured lung."

"Sucks to be you," Gordon patted his shoulder, taking the tablet back. 

He settled back on the couch to search out more of his starring roles. "Hey, this one has me and Virgil in description!" 

"You might want to be careful with one's like th-" I started, but I was drowned out by his horrified scream. 

"I tried to warn you," I sighed. 

"What's wrong?" Scott demanded to know. 

Gordon shuddered, gagging on nothing. 

"I think he found the Tracy pairings," I whispered to John. 

Gordon whimpered pathetically. I shook my head sadly and took the tablet away, tucking it into my bag.

"No more fanfic for you." 

They were quiet for around five minutes, digesting the horror of what they had just learnt about their fictional selves. 

"I liked the one where we got to go to the zoo," Alan finally broke the silence, trying valiantly to make things better. 

"I liked when we got a puppy," Gordon grinned. 

"I need a beer," Virgil announced, heaving himself to his feet. "And I need to get out of these pants before I ruin all chances of ever fathering the children those writers want me to have." 

Well, that had been an interesting and educational evening, although I'm not sure they liked what they learnt. And I can tell you one thing, John's hair is not staying like that.


	52. Day 52

Day 52 of Isolation on Tracy Island and I am not having a good day. You know how it is, you just want to chill, you just want to kick back, relax and enjoy your day but then an annoying little brother comes along and just has to mess up your plans? Yep, that was me. And John didn't help at all. 

I was stretched out on a towel on the beach, chatting lazily to a crab, when Gordon ran past with a surfboard. He was quickly followed by Alan and then John. 

"Do you want to join in?" Gordon asked. 

I made a face and shook my head. "No thanks, I'm chill sitting here talking to Mr Crabbs. Besides, I don't know how to surf and I don't really think it's my thing."

His mouth dropped open in absolute horror. "You don't know how to surf?" 

I shrugged. "I grew up on the outskirts of London, it's not like I had a lot of opportunities to doggy paddle my way out to sea on a plank of wood, is it?" 

He rolled his eyes at me. "It's not wood." 

"That's all you took from my speech? You got that from John, didn't you?" 

"Don't blame me!" 

I ignored that. 

"I'm going to teach you to surf!" Gordon insisted. "Come on, it's easy." 

"Tracy easy, or me easy? Because they are two totally different things."

He lifted a hand, swaying it back and forth in a 'could go either way' gesture. 

"Come on, please?" 

I shook my head. "Nope, I really don't think it's for me, me and the water, we aren't best buddies. I think I'm safer out here." 

"Please?" 

"Do you honestly think I'd let him drown you?" John asked. 

"You can share with me," Alan offered. 

"I rescue people from the sea all the time, I won't let anything happen to you. Please?" Gordon weedled. The puppy eyes were out in force and in stereo. All three of them looked at me like I was about to take away their favourite toy, to dash their hopes and dreams into nothing. 

I sighed and they knew they had won. 

"Fine, but I'm not squeezing into one of those wetsuit things, I have no desire to feel like a sausage in a too tight skin." 

"Deal." 

I'm going to regret this, I thought to myself. 

Turned out I was right, and a lot sooner than I had expected. 

"Come on, we've been over this three times. I've marked out the midpoint of your board, that's where your feet go, and your eye line, which is where your eyes go when you're laying down on the board, it's not hard."

"It's not hard for you," I reminded him. "I am not a water baby like you." 

"Just try it, lay down again and start to paddle," he instructed. I did as I was told and paddled my hands through the sand on either side of the board. 

"Imagine you've got a sweet wave coming, it lifts up the board," he swooshed his hand through the air like a wave. "It's just like yoga, you can do that, you plant your palms, lift up in a cobra and then pop up to your feet in warrior pose. You can do that, it's simple." 

"Simple my butt," I muttered, but I gamely tried, and much to my surprise I actually managed to scramble to my feet. 

"Yes! That's great, you did it! Now just do that in the water and you'll be fine. Just remember to keep your feet and ankles together when paddling so that your board doesn't do a nosedive. Keep your feet on the middle line when standing and that's it."

"Yeah, that's all there is to it," Alan encouraged. 

I wasn't convinced. 

"Urghhhh!" I spat out yet another mouthful of sea water as I toppled off the board and landed in the water. 

Gordon had adapted his advice, telling me to just try to get from my belly to my knees at first and get used to the movement of the board. 

I had knelt on my board and watched as Alan bombed past me like he had a rocket up his butt and John sailed along with perfect form as if he were doing nothing more taxing than walking to the fridge. 

Pushing the wet hair back from my face I tried again, dragging myself back onto the board and paddling my way out a bit further. It was totally alien to be swimming at a wave and my monkey brain was yelling at me to get the hell out of dodge and retreat but I paddled on determinedly. 

Gordon sat astride his board like he was lounging on the couch, bobbing along happily, watching me struggle. 

"Here's a big one, you can do it, you can pop. I believe in you!" 

Yeah right, he was about to be very disappointed but I was going to give it a bloody good go. 

I planted my hands as firmly as I could, narrowing my eyes are my watery nemesis that was bowling at me. 

"Alright wave, it's just you and me, we can do this the easy way or the hard way, what's it gonna be?" 

I maneuvered the board as best I could, turning to face the beach and waited for the wave to start to lift me. One…two…three, I lifted up, arching my spine and pushed on my hands, popping up onto my feet. I wobbled, but managed to get my feet under me, knees bent, dominant leg forward and used my arms to balance. 

"Oh…oh...I might be do-" the wave was having none of it, the hard way it was then. My board bucked and once again I was pitched forward and tossed into the sea, my board bonking me on the head for good measure. 

"Nope! That's it, I'm out!" 

I paddled towards the beach, utterly done. I'd never get this, I wasn't enjoying it and it pretty much sucked. Fact. I am not an athletic person, I am a low impact, chill out on the floor and maybe bend a leg, type of person and that was not going to change for the foreseeable future. 

They tried to drag me back but I stood my ground firmly, something I'd apparently been unable to do while balancing on a board. 

Once I was back on sandy ground and no longer taking enforced dips into the ocean I could enjoy watching the way the boys surfed like the pros that they are, thoroughly enjoying themselves. 

I know they thought that to enjoy myself I had to be out there with them, but that's a them thing, not a me thing. They are doers, always wanting to be in the middle of everything, always wanting to try new things and be on the go. They just didn't understand my more laid back approach to life, I got more enjoyment out of seeing them laughing and having fun than I did actually participating in it. 

Predictably they didn't leave me alone for too long and soon I was being coaxed back out with the promise of extra help. 

Gordon and John abandoned their boards to help me, taking it in turns to paddle along behind to guide the board and help me to stand. Slowly, I managed to gain a little more confidence as well as my balance. 

John decided to up the stakes a bit and made me kneel on the board and got up behind me, taking over the paddling duties. 

"OK, on three…"

I nodded and moved into a squat, my feet already in their positions, balancing with fingertips on the board as he held it steady. 

"One…two...THREE!"

We both popped to our feet. I wobbled but he managed to hold me up and keep me steady, dragging me upright with an arm around my waist, using his grip to guide me and support me enough to stay on my feet as he handled the board. 

Surprisingly we actually made it almost to the beach and called it a win. 

"So, come on, admit it, it wasn't too bad, was it?" Gordon wheeled. 

I sighed. Honestly, it hadn't been that bad. At first it had been an utter nightmare, but as the day wore on I had managed to gain a little competence, and I have to admit, I had probably spent slightly more time laughing than I had swearing. 

"No, it wasn't that bad," I conceded. 

"Yes!" he punched the air in celebration. "We'll try water skiing tomorrow." 

I'm doomed.


	53. Day 53

Day 53 of Isolation on Tracy Island and today I managed the impossible. Praise me. Tell me I'm awesome. Because I deserve it. 

What did you do I hear you ask? Well, I'll tell you. I got every single one of them to sit quietly and still for more than five minutes. And it wasn't that painful…I'm lying, it was. But at least we tried. 

Picture the scene, Virgil and I are out in Grandma's garden, peacefully settled, cross legged on big floor cushions. 

I took a deep breath, held it and then released it softly, enjoying the peace.

"What are you doing?" 

Peace shattered. Just like that. 

I kept my eyes closed and breathed deeply again. 

"Are you OK? Are you sleeping sitting up?" 

I opened one eye to look at Alan. "I'm meditating."

"Why?"

I opened my other eye. 

"Because it's peaceful and calming, something you should probably be doing too." 

"Oh, cool, can I join in?" 

"No," Virgil didn't even bother to look at him, he just stayed perfectly still, his hands resting lightly on his knees. 

"Oh come on, I'm bored." 

"Fine, but you have to sit quietly and not bug us," Virgil warned him. 

"Sure, yeah, cool. Let me just go and get Gordon!" 

He sped off before we could stop him. 

"We're never going to have any peace, are we?" I asked Virgil. 

"Nope," he sighed. 

Alan returned a few minutes later with not just Gordon in tow but Scott too. 

"Why are you here?" I asked the old one. 

"Because I didn't trust these two." 

"Good call," I admitted.

"Hey!" Gordon protested, throwing down his own pillow to sit on. "I can be quiet."

"No you can't," John commented, appearing from nowhere as he so often did now, his hand dropping down onto my shoulder so I jumped. I swear he's been taking lessons from Kayo in how to be sneaky.

"What's going on?" he asked, giving my shoulder a squeeze. I took the hint and shifted over, making room for him to share my big cushion. 

"We were sitting quietly when these three decided to get involved." 

"You aren't seriously planning on trying to lead them through a meditation, are you?" 

"Of course not, that would be crazy." 

"Yet here we are." 

"Yep," I cleared my throat. "Let's work on our breathing and get back into our quiet space." 

"I'm breathing just fine," Alan commented. 

"In through your nose for the count of five," I instructed, ignoring him. Virgil and I inhaled deeply and slowly, counting in our heads. 

"And hold for six," I intoned as we held the breath we had just taken. 

"And out slowly for seven," we slowly let the breath out. Well, Virgil, John and I did, Scott tried, but Alan let his out in a rush. 

"I feel dizzy." 

Gordon was still holding his breath like it was nothing. 

"Gordon, breathe hun." 

He released his breath. "Sorry, I stopped listening." 

I rolled my eyes but continued to talk them through calm breathing, trying to keep them still and quiet. It kinda worked too, for the most part. 

"OK, shall we just move on?" 

They all nodded. 

"I want you to picture a pretty country road-"

"Will it take us home?" Scott asked. 

"To a place that we belong?" Gordon followed. 

"WEST VIRGINIA!" Alan practically yodelled and they all dissolved into fresh laughter. 

"That's it, I'm done! You all suck," I began to unfold my legs. "If you guys aren't going to take this seriously then I'm not wasting my time with you." 

"This is why I said no," Virgil pointed out. 

"I bow down to your wisdom," I replied sarcastically. 

"I'm still here," John pointed out, raising a hand innocently. 

"And this is one of the many reasons you're my favourite," I informed him. 

"Biased," Gordon snorted. 

"Sensible," I shot back. 

"We'll behave, promise," Scott crossed his heart.

"I don't believe you." 

"I wouldn't either," Virgil muttered. 

I sighed and crossed my legs again. 

"OK, close your eyes and go to your happy place. Alan, describe it to us." 

"I…I don't know! Don't put me on the spot like that." 

I sighed. "Scott?" 

"Mine's probably not fit for repeating in polite company." 

"Ewww," Alan shuddered. 

"Gordon, sweetheart, don't let me down." 

"I'm sorry, I'm with Scott." 

I scrambled to my feet, snatched up the pillow that John was still half sitting on, and smacked Gordon around the head with it. 

"Be gone!" 

I swiped at Scott next. "You too. Go away! Leave!" 

Alan got a whap too and I kept beating them with the pillow until all three of them scuttled off, still laughing at me. 

"How are you two related to them?" I huffed. 

"Bad luck and genetics," John answered. 

Virgil snorted quietly and closed his eyes again. 

"I predict we have about ten minutes before they come back," John informed me. "Use them wisely." 

I nodded and dropped the pillow on the floor, settled back down and closed my eyes. 

Most people use a tropical island as their restful visualisation, if only they knew the truth. 

This place could never, ever be peaceful.


	54. Day 54

Day 54 of Isolation on Tracy Island and I almost killed Alan today. Mostly because he was laughing so hard he kept choking, wheezing and forgetting to breathe. 

What, you might ask, was so funny? Well, he tried to teach me to play a computer game with him. And let's just say… I'm not a natural. 

"I'm bored," I whined, stretching out a foot and poking Alan with my toe. "Entertain me." 

He looked at me. "How am I supposed to do that?" 

"I don't know, suggest something." 

"You won't like anything that I want to do." 

"I promise I will, I'll give anything a go at the moment, I'm that bored." 

"Fine," he handed me a VR headset and a set of hand controllers. "Let's play." 

"Oh, oh no! No, this is not for me. Boy, you know I'm a technophobe, I don't play games, I just can't get my head around them." 

"You promised you'd try," he reminded me, an evil glint in his eyes and an even eviller smirk on his face. 

"Crap." I sighed and slid the heavy goggles onto my face. "You had better pick something easy." 

There are, as it turns out, two versions of easy, Alan easy, and me easy. He picked Alan easy, which should be considered very hard for me. 

"What are we playing?" I asked. 

"Cavern Quest," he replied. "You'll love it, I even set you up with a witch character to go with my Knight. You'll do great." 

At least someone had faith in me. Though unfortunately that faith was about to be short lived. 

"How do I walk?" I called after him as he sped off like a streak of lightning. Boy was rapid. "Come back!" 

"Just use the thumb controls of the left controller to move, push forward or backwards to go forward or backwards and side to side to move left or right."

I pushed forward and was instantly face to face with the floor. 

"What happened?" 

"You fell over. You ran into a stump." 

"Poop. How do I get up?" 

"Push up! Just push the direction you want to go."

I pushed up and ended up looking at the stars. . 

"Erm…help?"

"Hang on, I'm coming." 

A hand grabbed mine and hauled me to my feet. 

"Thank you." 

"Want me to guide you to the first level?" 

"Yes, yes I do." 

He towed me along by the hand until we zoomed through a curved doorway into what looked like a castle hall. 

A king sat upon a pretty nifty throne, so I guessed that my assumption had been correct. 

"Welcome, brave warriors," he boomed. "I am grateful for your assistance. I shall give you five quests, each one more challenging than the last. Complete them all and you will win your place within the ranks of nobility and become a Knight of the Realm." 

"Fancy," I commented. 

"Prove your valour and recite the Cavern Quest oath." 

Alan nudged my character, and I think me in real life as I felt it in my ribs. 

"Just keep up if you can," he whispered then launched into what I assumed was the oath. 

"With mystic blades and fire ore, we pledge our honoured best. Many shall fall for only a noble few will pass the test! So come more worthy heroes and bring forth the cavern quest!" Alan finished triumphantly. 

"Mystic ore…nobel us…test…Cavern Quest…" I mumbled, the only words I could catch. Alan didn't look impressed. 

"You have pledged your fealty, you may now enter."

A set of doors opened before us and Alan dragged me through. 

"You have to be on your guard now. You're a witch, so you fight with spells. Use the buttons on your right controller to cast. You simply swoosh and point and hit the right buttons."

I lifted my right hand and swooshed, hitting a random button with my thumb. A shot of red light flew out of my hand and blew up a rock. "Dang." 

Alan cracked up laughing but soon sobered as out of the trees lumbered a gigantic troll. He dived at the troll, hammering it with his sword. 

"Cast a spell!" he yelled as I shrieked and dived out of the way, trying to karate kick it. 

"Oh, yeah, I'm magic," I remembered, fumbling with the controller. I bashed buttons madly, swinging my arm like I was batting away a fly. Coloured sparks shot this way and that, but the only thing I succeeded in hitting was Alan. 

"Hey!" 

"Sorry!" I yelled back. I risked moving a little closer and fell over again. 

Alan defeated the troll and picked me back up again, moving us through the rest of the level. It didn't come naturally or easily for me. 

"How do I jump?" I demanded. 

"Left trigger!" 

"Why am I stuck?" 

"Because you're in a bush!" 

"Why did I just die?" 

"Because you fell in lava!" 

"HIIIIYAAAAAHHHH take that you beast!" 

"That's a dog not a werewolf! Stop hitting him with that stick!" 

"Oops." 

"No! Don't go through…there."

"I can't see! I'm blind!" 

"You walked into a wall and you're still walking."

"Why can't I move?" 

"You just got yourself stuck in a corner, turn around!" 

"Why did I die this time?" 

"That tree just fell on you." 

I screamed like a banshee when something swooped down out of nowhere and attacked me. I flailed and somehow my thumb hit a button and my hand moved the right way and suddenly the gargoyle was in flames on the floor. 

"You did it!" 

"I did?" 

"Yeah!" 

"Cool. See? I got this." 

Turned out I didn't got it at all. 

We fought our way through the dark forest, taking out elves, fae and the odd goblin. Alan did the majority of the work while I set to work on a few puzzles, all of which provided me with new spells to add to my arsenal. 

"For this bit you need to change your form, you cast a spell and become something smaller, like a rat or a toad."

"I can do that?" 

"Duh, you're a witch. Use that new spell, it's easy, left, right, right, left, up."

"I wanna be a cat!" 

"Then select the cat!" 

I toggled along the options until I found a cat and hit the button. A flash of light, a puff of smoke and boom, I was a cat. 

"This is so cool! I'm a cat! I have ears! Look at my tail! I can swish." I wiggled my butt back and forth. "Swish, swish, swish," 

"We don't have time for you to play with your tail. You need to go through that pipe and push the button."

I did as I was told and actually managed to complete the mission, opening up a gate for us to go through. 

"Now return to yourself."

"I'm stuck! I'm stuck! Alan, help me!" 

"You were supposed to get out of the pipe first!" 

"You could have told me that!" 

"It's common sense!" he yanked at my arms. My avatar didn't budge. 

"You're too stuck and you're crushing your own lungs. I'm gonna have to kill you. Sorry about that."

"Just make it quick," I begged. I closed my eyes as he raised his sword. 

We moved on once I blinked back into existence after my slaughter at the hand of my team mate. Alan handled all the quest points like the pro that he was, instructing me to go around each area, smash up as much stuff as I could and collect all the objects that fell out. 

"Just get all the coins, potion ingredients and magical objects, I'll protect you and do the rest," he promised.

I nodded and proceeded with my one woman rampage of the scenery. I was a button basher, that's all I seemed to be able to do. I found it impossible to coordinate more than one button or movement at a time. I was just about managing to walk, maybe jump and land at a push, everything else was pure dumb luck. 

"Yes! Take that you ugly box! Boof! Ha! Give it up, give it all up, I know you've got some gold in there. Quit holding out on me." I smacked the box with an axe that Alan had taken from a suit of armour one level back. The box refused to allow itself to be looted. "Gimme it!!! Gimme the gold! Make me rich, baby!" 

I bashed a series of buttons as quickly as I could. 

"Why am I a goat? Alan, I'm a goat! Why am I a goat?"

"You cast a spell, change back!"

I tried. "I'm a cow! This is worse!" 

He had to stop beating up a wild boar to run over and fix me, laughing the entire time. 

"Don't laugh at me! You're body shaming me!" 

He actually had to hold his breath for a few seconds to calm down before he could talk me through getting back to my former self. 

"Thanks."

I returned to the chest and tossed a spell at it and to my deep joy it splintered apart." Yes!" I scooped up the gold and tucked it away into my bag. I was kinda getting the hang of this. 

"Come on, we gotta move!" 

Alan leapt up onto the battlements and raced along the wall. I jumped up after him… and promptly fell off the other side and hit the ground. 

"Crap!" I yelled as I blinked out of existence and appeared on the other side of the wall again. 

It took me six goes to manage the jump, move, run routine, by which time Alan had given up waiting and was half way down the stairs that led to the great hall where the sounds of an epic battle could be heard raging. 

"Alan! Don't leave me!" I raced after him and immediately ran into a door that I forgot to open first. I finally made it to the hall after getting wrapped in a spiders web, stuck in a cupboard, setting myself on fire and accidentally drinking a potion that turned me into a ghost for twenty minutes. But at least that gave me a breather to wander around and wail at nothing, kinda like I felt like doing in real life at that moment. 

"What took you so long?" Alan called as he slashed at a dark elf that had just thrown a spear at his head. 

"I got caught up, but I'm here now. What can I do to help?" 

"Anything!" he yelled desperately. 

I took him at his word, throwing spells randomly, hitting maybe one intended target out of twenty. 

I swung my axe, whacking at anything that came close enough for me to hit. 

"Ha! Take that you twat! Come closer so I can kill you easier!" 

"I don't think life works that way," I heard John comment. 

"How the…?" I looked all around and almost got hit by a flying shield. "Gahhhh," I screamed, ducking out of the way. 

"Try hitting it again?" Scott suggested. 

"Shut up! I'm trying to stay alive here!" I yelled back. 

"Try harder," Gordon encouraged. 

"Duck!" Alan yelled and it took me a second to realise he was actually being helpful. I dropped to my knees and just about avoided death by turkey leg. 

I'd like to say that I held my own, but I'd be lying. I failed miserably and had to be rescued by Alan another five times just to make it to the end of the level. Though I did manage to trip over my own foot, but then a vengeful knight tripped over me where I was sprawled out on the floor, so I suppose that was a good thing. 

"Nope, I'm done, I'll never get the hang of this," I tugged off the headset to find everyone sitting around, watching me. 

"How long were you there?" I asked. 

"Long enough," Virgil grinned. 

"Swish, swish, swish," Scott wiggled his eyebrows at me. I glared in return. 

"Lady Witch," John bowed, offering me an apple from the fruit bowl. "I wish to engage your services." 

I raised an eyebrow. "I'm a mercenary now, I only accept precious jewels or things of high value. You got any potions about your person?" 

"How about a dirty old bar of gold? Will that suffice?" 

I pretended to think about it. "Deal." I held out my hand. "You good sir, just hired yourself a witch."

I've got no idea what I just agreed to but I'd just survived an epic quest and now I know I can handle anything. He won't be too mean to me, will he?


	55. Day 55

Day 55 of isolation on Tracy Island. 

Oh hey, Alan here! I offered to write today's update because she's too busy waiting to catch Gordon and Scott, who are hiding from her. I think John is keeping her company. 

It was actually pretty hilarious, although I wouldn't want to be in their place when she catches them. She was completely oblivious until Lady Penelope called for what she called a 'girly catch up'. 

They chatted for a while and everything was fine until Lady Penelope started planning a spa day with the full salon experience as an after lockdown treat. 

"Isolation is no reason to let one's personal grooming fall by the wayside, don't you agree?" Penelope asked. 

"Yeah, totally, but obviously we can't be expected to keep up our usual standards so it's not like we aren't allowed to be in need of a little attention once we're safe to go out." 

"Some of us might need a bit more than a little attention."

"Hey, I resent that. It's not my fault I had to resort to a home dye job."

Lady Penelope didn't look like she believed her but said no more, wishing her a polite goodbye. 

Around ten minutes later her mom called and she was about as subtle as Gordon when he farts in Thunderbird Two. 

"Just because he's almost always in space is no reason to stop making an effort, you know," her mom insisted. 

"Erm...no, I actually don't know," she actually looked quite insulted and glanced over at John, who shrugged. 

"Honestly, if you're going to let yourself go, don't be so proud of it."

"What the hell are you talking about?" 

John, who had been sitting quietly watching a video on his phone, had looked up at the mention of space, that's all he notices really, that and when I eat his bagels. He must have suspected something was up, he's good at that although it's not always helpful, and started scrolling on his phone. Then he handed it over. 

Her face went from confused to murderous quicker than Kayo's when you mention butterflies. 

"Mum, I gotta go kill someone, I'll talk to you later. Stay safe." She hung up and left the room with John trailing after her. 

A few minutes later both Gordon and Scott crept through the lounge and disappeared down Gordon's launch chute. 

"Where are they?" she asked, coming back in. I didn't tell her a thing, I'm no snitch, but I think she knew anyway. 

"I'll wait them out, they have to come back some time, they'll crack before I do. No one can hold a grudge like me." 

John nodded his agreement behind her back and I just about managed not to laugh, it was the funniest thing. 

"What about your update?" I asked her. 

"You can do it for all I care," she said. So I have!

I also know what they did to annoy her so much. It seems that Gordon learnt a little trick from Parker and knows how to get around a fingerprint scanner on a phone. I'll post the screenshot later. 

Gordon and Scott are currently hiding somewhere under the island in Thunderbird Four. It's been six hours. 

Maybe, if she kills them, I'll get Gordon's room and maybe Thunderbird one! Then I'll have the two coolest Thunderbirds. 

[Screenshot ](https://www.dropbox.com/s/gt0q14557vi8a5s/1589394471308.png?dl=0)   
  
  



	56. Day 56

Day 56 of isolation on Tracy Island and today I found out a disturbing secret. 

I was doing a spot of online shopping, supposedly for essentials to be delivered to our storage locker on the mainland so we could pick it up later. That's mostly what we do, order things, get them delivered and stored and just make Virgil stop in every time he goes past. 

Anyway, as you can probably gather from the way I just confessed that I was 'supposed' to be getting essentials, that I'd wandered off the planned path. Yes friends, I had fallen down a home shopping hole and now I was pretty stuck. 

"Do you like this shirt?" I asked John, showing him the screen. 

"That's a pirate shirt." 

"I know that." 

"Those are very puffy sleeves." 

"Yep! You want it?" 

"No." he turned away again. 

"Not even if I get you these super nice leather pants to go with it?" I wheedled. 

He glanced over again. 

"No." 

"Well you're no fun."

"So I'm told." He didn't look too bothered by it though. 

I flicked through a couple more tops and then some boots. 

"Hey, Scott, do you want some funky boots?" I showed him an awesome pair of lace up army boot style that went right up to just under the knee. 

"No, I've still got my flight boots, they're broken in, I don't need more blisters." 

"Allie, want some cool wristbands?" 

"Nah, I'm good." 

"Virg, can I buy you this t-shirt?" I proudly displayed a shirt that depicted a squashed tube of paint and had the words "I arted" under it. 

"No thanks."

"Why won't anyone let me shop for them?" I grumbled, pouting. "I could be your personal shopper."

"Why don't you go and shop with Grandma?" Scott suggested.

I thought about it for a few seconds, realising that it actually wasn't a terrible idea. 

"OK," I took my tablet with me and wandered off to find her. I came back ten minutes later having not succeeded in my quest. 

"Did you buy nice things?" John asked. "Preferably things I don't have to wear?" 

"Nope," I dropped down next to him. "Couldn't find her." 

"You couldn't find her?" Scott looked up from his perusal of some boring paperwork that I wasn't interested in. 

John, ever sensible boy that he is, checked his watch. "It's quarter past two, she's never about between two and three, have none of you noticed that?" 

Blank stares accompanied his announcement. 

"What does she do?" I had to know, all of a sudden it was the most important information in the entire world. That's the point of isolation I'm at now, any new bit of gossip or weirdness will be pounced upon and examined closely because I have NOTHING ELSE TO DO!

They all shrugged. 

"None of you know what she does?" 

They shook their heads. 

"You're all useless. I'm gonna go find her and see if she wants to add anything to this shopping list." 

I very rarely ventured much past the boys rooms to the wing where Kayo and Grandma had their rooms, but since I'd exhausted every other part of the villa, it made sense that she might be there. 

I knocked quietly on the door, not wanting to disturb her if she was indulging in an after lunch nap. She didn't answer and I was about to leave her in peace when I heard the sound of voices coming from inside the room. Her and someone else, and they were arguing. 

"Grandma? Are you OK?" I called out, raising my voice to be heard through the door. 

Inside there was silence, and then the door opened a crack, Grandma peeking out. 

"Fine, all fine in here, you just run along."

"Is someone giving you a hard time on the home cooks chat again? Do I need to yell at someone?" 

"No! Nothing like that." 

I crossed my arms, giving her the same look I always give Scott when he was getting on my last nerve.

"I don't believe you." She had the same shifty look I see from Gordon. "You're hiding something."

"I'm not!" 

"Let me in then."

She glanced over her shoulder for a second then back to me. 

"Fine, you can come in, but you aren't allowed to tell anyone. Got it?" 

I nodded and she stepped aside, permitting entrance into the inner sanctum. 

Of all the things I was expecting to see, I have to admit, that in a million years I never would have guessed this. 

'Oh, erm…hey Mike," I greeted the man formerly known as The Mechanic. His holographic form glared at me. He wasn't looking his normal, intimidating self. His previously neatly shaved head was stubbled and his mohawk had grown out, flopping forward. He was seated on a couch and, most disturbing of all, he was wearing a dressing gown, his hair was held back by a patterned band and had on some kind of facepack. 

"Oily T-zone," Grandma explained. "I recommended the same mask that I use. It's done wonders for me."

"Great," I hedged, wondering what kind of twilight zone I had stumbled so innocently into. I didn't like it, it was scary in here. 

"Oh, it's back on," Grandma announced, pushing me down into one of the chairs she had beside her bed. 

"What are you watching?" I asked, though I wasn't sure I wanted to know the answer. 

"The Big and the Boisterous," she grinned. "We watch it every day, luckily the record three months in advance. It's about a family run boxing school and gym."

"Boxing?" My brain was hurting already and I hadn't even seen it. 

"Yes," Mike growled, obviously not at all pleased I was there. 

"It's OK, I don't watch this show and don't really know what's going on…" I started to get up but Grandma pushed me back down again. 

"No, you stay, we can catch you up."

Oh lawd, what had I done to deserve this? I swear I'll never be curious again! 

"That's Carlos, he's the father and owner of the gym. He used to be a heavyweight boxer until a shoulder injury ended his career, now he trains people and puts a lot of pressure on his sons, trying to live vicariously through them," Grandma told me. "And that's his wife, Magdelena, Maggie to her friends, and that's Charles, the handsome English boxer who comes from a very rich family and bailed them out when Maggie's shopping addiction became too much and she started stealing from the company to fund it."

I nodded like I had actually followed what she had just said. Mike didn't look like he believed me. Can't say I blame him. 

"Maggie and Charles are having an affair, and Carlos is angry because he just found out that his youngest son isn't really his son, but he's actually not even his youngest son because he had a baby with Magdelena's best friend, but no one knows that but them," Grandma continued."Now Magedlena is pregnant and we don't know who the father is, but they have also been building up to the fact that Charles has a secret he's not telling anyone. Mike has a theory, but I don't agree with it." 

"Because it is ridiculous," Mike grumbled.

And they were off again. I sat and listened as they argued back and forth, Mike believing that Charles was only using Magedlena to get his hands on the other half od the gym, while Grandma believed that it really was love and that he was planning to propose, once Carlos, who wasn't a nice man apparently, was bumped off. All the time I was nodding along I was desperately trying to think of a way out of the room. Could John rescue me? I sneakily unlocked my tablet and brought up his account… 

"Oh, you have to watch this and pay attention," Grandma insisted. "Put your tablet down. You kids these days, can't seem to concentrate on one thing, always tapping on your phones."

"Sorry," I turned it off and said goodbye to my hopes and dreams. I would never be saved now, International Rescue had failed me. 

My head was spinning ten minutes into the episode and I hadn't watched a single minute of it, it was too painful. Mike and Grandma had continued to argue the entire way through it, throwing out theories and facts like they were in court, each defending a side. Every few minutes they would both go silent and stare intently at the action on screen before starting up again, continuing exactly where they had left off. 

How the heck had this little ritual come about? Honestly, I wasn't sure that I wanted to know. Mike's face mask was beginning to melt and I just couldn't sit through another minute of it. I had to be brave, I had to take back control. I could do it. I just had to be firm. Or I could just run for it. That was a good plan too. 

I got slowly to my feet, hoping they wouldn't notice if I snuck out. 

"Are you going?" Grandma, she of the batlike ears, snapped her head around to face me. 

"Yeah, I…I only popped in to see if you wanted anything ordering, but now that I see you're busy, I'm going to leave you to your show." 

"Are you joining us tomorrow?" Grandma asked but I shook my head. 

"No, I think I'll give it a miss, I think there's a bit too much going on for me to catch up with now, but your secret is safe with me." I literally couldn't think of anything worse than sitting through a full hour of badly acted, mega shiny, overly tanned muscle men flexing all over the place, having the occasional punch up and women constantly crying. It was my worst nightmare. It was torture. I just couldn't do it. 

Grandma nodded, not seeming to care one bit if I was there or not, which I guessed was a good thing. I left them to it as they continued debating if Carlos was going to be poisoned or shot. 

I shut the door with a sigh of relief, unable to believe what I'd just witnessed. You know when you're walking on auto pilot, where you don't realise that you were actually moving until you get there? That was me at that moment, dazed, confused and in need of some sanity. Not that I'd find it in this house. 

I sat down beside John, putting my tablet down on the table. 

"Did you find her?" he asked. 

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Obviously me being silent was enough to make them worry, as four sets of eyes glanced up. 

"Are you OK?" Scott asked. 

I shook my head. 

"What happened?" 

"I saw things…" 

"What kind of things?" John asked. 

"Scary things," I whispered. "Nightmarish things that will haunt my dreams more than that evil light up goblin from that Torchy book that Virgil has." I shuddered in remembered horror and accepted the hugs that were offered. 

"I have learnt two things," I mumbled into Scott's shoulder. 

"And they are?" asked he of the bony shoulder blade. 

"One, that I should never give in to my curiosity again." 

"And two?" Virgil asked, offering me his coffee. I took a fortifying sip before answering. 

"I now know exactly where to send Gordon next time he hacks my phone."


	57. Day 57

Day 57 of isolation on Tracy Island and nothing much happened today. In fact, I was having a very bad day and was refusing to get out of bed. 

A hand shook my shoulder but I ignored it, rolled tighter into the blankets and fully embraced my cocoon phase. 

The hand shook my shoulder again. 

"Go away." 

"Why?" 

"Because I said so." 

"You can't stay in there all day." 

"Who made that rule? I can if I want to," I tucked my head under the pillow and prepared to wait it out. 

"Come on, love." 

"No," my voice was muffled, but firm. I wasn't coming out, I wasn't doing this day, it sucked. It was getting harder and harder to stay cheerful, harder to keep my spirits up, let alone everyone else's. Sometimes you just had to take a mental health day, and today was my day, dammit! I wanted to be miserable, I wanted to throw myself a one woman pity party. Unfortunately, someone wasn't allowing that. 

"You have to come out sometime." 

"No I don't. I don't want to." 

"Why?" The bed dipped as he got back in next to me. 

"Because I don't."

"That's not a reason." 

"I'm having a me day, I'm not doing anything today, I'm not moving." 

"I'd leave you alone if I thought that was what you actually needed." 

I declined to comment any more. He is way too bloody observant sometimes. I didn't not want them around, but I also didn't want to be responsible for anything or anyone today. It had been a long isolation and I wasn't feeling my usual chirpy self. 

"Don't make me call in the big guns," John warned me. 

I pulled my head out from under the pillow so he could hear me but didn't crawl out of the blankets. 

"You don't have any big guns, you have no plan, you're blagging, you don't fool me." 

John sighed. "You asked for it." I heard his footsteps retreating but didn't bother moving. There was nothing he could do to move me, I was a rock, a mountain, solid, immovable. Now felt like a good time to have a nap. I snuggled deeper and closed my eyes… 

"What' s going on? John said you needed me?" 

Urghhh, why was he so loud? 

"Go away," I mumbled. 

"You wound me!" Gordon mock sobbed. He grabbed the end of the blanket and yanked but I had grown up with an annoying little brother of my own, I was prepared for that and had tucked it around me so tight all he did was drag me further down the bed. I laid still and ignored him. Play dead and maybe he'd go away. 

He poked randomly at the mound of blankets that made up my hideout, only succeeding in connecting with me twice. He'd have to do better than that. 

"Stop it! I'm having me time!" 

"Is that code for something?" 

"Sod off!" I shuffled further across the bed, moving away from him. 

"John! She's not budging!" 

"Plan A," John yelled back. I frowned, that made zero sense… 

"Hey!" a cannonball landed on the bed with a thump and tugged at the covers. I held on tight. The cannonball yanked harder, then shoved a foot into my back and pushed, rolling me over and yanking at the same time. I squealed as my covers came free and Alan wormed his way under them with me. 

"Hi! What's up? John said you were feeling grumpy? Why are you feeling grumpy? Can I do anything to help?" 

I opened one eye to find myself nose to nose with him. 

"Go away," I grumbled. But he is not one to give up that easily. He plays dirty that one. "No, no don't you dare…" his bottom lip wobbled and then pushed out in the most adorable pout I'd ever seen in my life. "I hate you." 

"No you don't," he grinned, snuggling up to my side for a hug, one I was powerless to deny.

Gordon dropped down on my other side, squishing me between them like the filling in a sandwich. 

"Are you going to come out now?" 

"No." 

"Then I'm sorry we have to do this." 

"What? What do you have to do?" I was talking to myself, they were already gone. 

I shrugged and resumed my impression of a mummy, wrapping myself up tight. 

A pair of hands slid under me. 

"Up ya go!" 

I shrieked as I was lifted bodily off the bed, blankets and all, and tossed over a shoulder. Without my say so I was carted away like a rolled up carpet. 

"She's gonna be a mad when you let her go," I heard John warn whoever had been stupid enough to yoink me out of bed. 

"It's OK, we're ready," Scott assured him. "Places everyone, maneuver 26." 

I was hefted off what I assume was Virgil's shoulder and put on the floor. 

"One…two… THREE!" Someone grabbed the end of the blanket, lifted it and yanked hard. 

"Gahhh!" I screamed as I was forcibly ejected from the security of my blanket burrito, rolling across the floor. 

"Got you!" John lunged, scooping me up and depositing me on the couch, sitting down next to me to make sure I couldn't escape. 

"Sate the beast!" Gordon yelled, throwing something in my direction. 

I squeaked as a bar of chocolate landed in my lap, followed by a bag of Doritos and a can of cherry coke. The blanket was tossed on top as a finishing touch. 

"Alan," John pointed to my other side and he bounced up like an enthusiastic puppy. 

"What are you idiots doing?" I had to ask, trying not to laugh. 

"We're looking after you for once," Scott insisted. "You're going to relax here, we're going to cook dinner and then we're going to watch whatever movie you want." 

"And we're going to provide all the hugs you can handle!" Alan chipped in. 

"You won't have to lift a finger, in fact, you're banned from the kitchen," Virgil added. 

Gordon, Scott and Virgil vanished leaving me in the apparently capable hands of John and Alan. 

Dinner was…interesting, as best I could tell it was some kind of lasagne, there were definitely layers, but it didn't resemble any I'd ever seen before. But thankfully it tasted much better than it looked. 

I subjected them to one of my favourite comfort movies, Practical Magic and they all managed to resist the urge to make sarcastic comments. Bless them, they really tried. 

In the end I am glad they dragged me out of my pit. I think everyone has those days when they feel unappreciated and like they are taken for granted sometimes even if, in reality, they aren't. 

Everyone has bad days, everyone has down moments and there is nothing weak about accepting a little attention and allowing others to take care of you now and then.


	58. Day 58

Day 58 of isolation on Tracy Island. 

"I literally don't know what to make of this." 

Honestly, I didn't. I swear, I don't know why I'm even surprised anymore. I should be used to walking innocently into a room and finding something ABSOLUTELY BLOODY RIDICULOUS going on. But no, apparently I am not that desensitised yet, apparently even after almost 60 days of nothing but these dumbasses, I have not yet developed the ability to walk in, look, judge and then walk back out again. Obviously I hadn't learnt anything from my near death experience in Grandma's room, I was still stupidly curious. 

"OK, I give in, I'll do it, I'll ask. What the heck is going on?" 

Jeff took pity on me. 

"He's always done that, ever since he was a child."

"He's always done that?" 

"Yeah."

"How did that even become a thing?" 

"That was my fault," Virgil admitted. "He was so noisy as a baby, he didn't sleep much and he liked a lot of attention-" 

"So the same as he is now, just without the sleeping?" 

"Yeah," Jeff sighed looking as if he wished he'd been given earplugs for Christmas. 

"One day I got really annoyed with him, because I was trying to practice my scales and I couldn't hear properly, so I just chucked his blanket over him," Virgil continued. 

"And that happened?" I just…dang. 

Virgil nodded. "Out like a light, I honestly thought I'd smothered him at first, and I was so scared to tell Grandma."

I lifted up the corner of the blanket to look at him. He certainly looked comfy enough. He was sitting up in one of the bucket seats, his head tipped back, fast asleep a peaceful expression on his face, but with his entire head and torso covered by my abandoned blanket. 

"Is he part parrot?" 

Jeff shrugged. "I never questioned it that deeply, I only cared that he was asleep. For some strange reason, once he's asleep nothing will wake him, it's just the getting him to sleep that can be difficult, even now."

"It's pretty cute how he will still just fall asleep like that though," Scott commented, having wandered in and picked up the tail end of the conversation. "Toss a blanket over his head and he'll be asleep within five minutes, guaranteed."

"I wonder if he's still as manipulable as he was 10 years ago?" Virgil mused. "It's been a long time since he's napped like this." 

"Uh oh, that sounds bad, you have that look on your face that says you're plotting something."

"I was just trying to remember if he ever found out…Scott?"

Scott shook his head. "Not that I know of, but I'm not the one to ask." 

"Who is? Is it Gordon? I bet it's Gordon, if it's about him finding out something it has to be related to Gordon."

"Not guilty!" Gordon protested. 

"He never found out," John confirmed, his voice floating down from the upper gallery where he was settled in one of the reading chairs near the bookshelves. I'll admit it, I jumped, I didn't even know he was there, but it was very typical of him, you think he's not around and all of a sudden, boom, there he is listening in and knowing everything that's going on in the house. 

"What? What didn't he find out?" This conversation was weird but oddly normal too, which just goes to show what you can get used to when you spend enough time with someone. 

"We could tell her…"Virgil started. 

"Or we could show her and see if it's still possible,"Scott finished. 

***

"You're just going to leave him there?" 

"Yep." Virgil stepped away from Alan, who was now sitting on a couch in the Cliff House, blanket still over his head. 

"I can't believe you carried him all this way and he didn't even stir, that's literally insane, you know that, right?" 

"Yep," Scott confirmed. 

"And the purpose of this is?" 

"When he was small he just wouldn't quit. We had to play dirty, so if he was getting tired and grumpy we would play hide and seek with him, knowing that he would always copy us and hide under a blanket too. He'd be asleep almost instantly and then we'd carry him to bed," Scott explained. 

"But as he got older he started to wonder how he got there, and well…we might have convinced him that John was a bit more of a genius than he actually is," Virgil continued. 

That didn't sound suspicious at all, did it?

"Genius how?" 

"Wait and see," John replied cryptically. 

I didn't have to wait long as it turned out, not even an hour. We were watching the news in the kitchen as we gathered things for lunch when I heard the first excited yell. 

Alan skidded into the kitchen, panting with exertion. 

"What's up squirt?" Scott asked innocently. 

"Oh…oh...my god," he huffed, struggling to catch his breath. "I can't believe it." 

He rounded on John who was casually sipping from a cup of coffee. 

"Why didn't you tell me your teleportation device still worked?"


	59. Day 59

Day 59 of Isolation on Tracy Island and it was that time of year again where I started in on my annual reread of Harry Potter. I was snuggled up on the couch, having retrieved my blanket from Alan, and was enjoying a little peace and quiet. 

"What are you reading? Gordon asked, plonking down opposite me. 

"Harry Potter, the best book series ever."

"Oh, I've never read them," he shrugged. 

"You've never read them?" I gasped, shocked to the deepest parts of my soul. "That's crazy. How can you have never read them?" 

"Eh, I've watched the movies, that's good enough," he flopped down on the couch opposite and picked up his phone. 

"Nope, I refuse to believe you just said that. I'll have you know that the books are a hundred times better than the movies. You have to read them." 

"Nah, I don't read but I'll listen." 

"You'll what?" 

"I'll listen," he stretched out languidly. "Read to me."

"Yeah," I laughed. "I don't think so." 

"Oh, go on, please. I'm so bored," he rolled over onto his belly and gave me that adorable look of his. I was powerless to resist. "You would if you loved me." 

Sighing I put down Chamber of Secrets and fetched Philosophers Stone, got comfy and started to read. 

"Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense…"

John turned up two pages in, along with Alan. I lifted my legs and let him sit down, draping them across his lap without missing a word. I knew these books far too well. 

Scott and Virgil arrived just as I started chapter two. 

"Oh, are we having story time? I love Harry Potter," Scott grinned, thumping down into a seat to listen. 

"Mom used to read this to us as kids," Virgil added, making himself comfortable. 

I got through six chapters before I had to call it a day, my voice getting hoarse, though I promised to continue another day. 

"Hogwarts sounds so cool, I've always wanted to be a wizard," Alan admitted. "Why couldn't some big, hairy dude have turned up when I turned eleven and told me I had magical powers?" 

"Wizards are alright, but I never had much of an urge to be one," Gordon mused. 

"Well, what would you have been then?" 

"You mean if we didn't already have the coolest jobs ever?" 

"Sure, let's go with that. So, what did you want to be when you were a kid?" 

Gordon thought about it for a moment or two before answering. "I'd wanted to be a pirate."

I burst out laughing. "A pirate, why?" 

"So I could live on a boat and get lots of cool stuff, plus I wanted a parrot. Harry Potter got an owl, I wanted a parrot."

"Sounds legit." 

"So you wanted to sail around stealing things?" Virgil confirmed. 

"You say that like it's a bad thing? Go on, you do better, what did you want to be when you grew up?" 

"Cowboy," he answered instantly. 

"I'd forgotten about your cowboy stage," Scott laughed. "You had that little hat and you rode around on one of dad's old hover bikes and insisted that everyone call you Sheriff."

"I was cool and you know it."

"Yeah, sure you were."

"Oh, I forgot, the only cool one of the family was you who wanted to be a stunt bike rider."

"Yep, I was cool, admit it."

"Until you broke your arm after you set up your own jump using a broken barn door and an oil barrel," John reminded him, an evil grin on his face. 

"Oh, you wanna go there, space boy? You wanna go there? Mr I want to be an asteroid so I'm going to steal Dad's jetpack prototype and jump out of a tree."

"I might have made it if Mom hadn't yelled at me from the house and made me lose my balance," John's arms crossed and he got that stubborn Tracy look on his face. 

"You'd never have made it and you know it, you're just lucky that you hadn't managed to climb up that far," Virgil laughed. 

"You're all nuts, you know that? Seriously, I have no idea how you even survived long enough to become semi functioning adults," I just…the mind boggled. 

"Semi functioning? I'll have you know we function just fine," Scott sniffed indignantly. 

"Oh really? And just when, pray tell, was the last time you made your own breakfast or did your own laundry without dying everything green because you threw your new socks in there too?" 

"It's not my fault the socks were of an inferior quality."

"Talking of socks…" I pulled a purple sock out of my pocket and tossed it onto the table. "Why was this inside my copy of Chamber of Secrets?" 

Blank faces greeted me. I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. One of them was lying, I knew it, they knew I knew it, but none of them were admitting it. 

"What did you want to be when you grew up?" Alan asked me. It seemed like a diversionary tactic to me. All five of them looked at me expectantly. 

I shook my head. "Nope, not going there."

"Oh, come on, we told ours," Gordon wheedled. 

"No, you'll laugh."

"No we won't, come on, what is it?" 

"I bet you wanted to be something like a snake charmer or a ghostbuster," Virgil guessed. 

I shook my head. 

"A werewolf?" Alan asked 

"A pumpkin carver?" Gordon tried. 

"An evil queen?" Scott tossed in. 

I shook my head again. 

"It has to be something along those lines," Virgil mused. "You can't have changed that much from a kid."

"I know what it is," John teased. 

"Hush your mouth!" 

"Oooh, that's gotta be bad," Gordon grinned. 

"It's so cute," he of the death wish continued. I glared at him in warning. 

"Come on, tell us, we won't laugh," Virgil promised.

"Yes you will," I insisted. 

Scott nudged Alan. 

"Please tell us," Alan pleaded, his bottom lip trembling…dang it. He unleashed the pout. 

"You had better not laugh," I warned them. 

They all crossed their hearts. 

I sighed. "I wanted to be a Christmas tree fairy," I admitted. 

They held it in for about five seconds, which to be honest, was four seconds longer than I expected. 

"You said you wouldn't laugh!" 

"Apparently I was wrong," Scott huffed, fighting to catch his breath. 

"I'm out, I hate you all, read your own damn books!" I swung my legs off John and got up. He was laughing too hard to stop me. 

"We didn't mean to!" Virgil protested. 

"I'm out!" I stomped up the steps of the seating area. 

"Aww, come on, don't get your tutu in a twist," Scott called after me. 

"Don't go!" Gordon yelled. "I promise, I do believe in fairies!" 

I lifted my hand in a rude gesture as I left. 

"Urgh, there's fairy dust on my lap!" 

There will be retribution…


	60. Day 60

Day 60 of isolation on Tracy island and something strange happened today.

“Delivery!” Virgil yelled, drawing all our attention as he and Gordon guided the hover dolly into the lounge from the hangers.

Everyone helped to unload it, storing things where they needed to go and generally helping in any way we could until only one crate, the largest, was left.

“What's in the box?” Scott asked

“No idea,” Virgil shrugged. “I’m just the errand boy.”

He hefted the crate off the dolly and onto the floor. Gordon grabbed the dolly to take it back to the hanger.

“That's a very big box,” I commented. 

“Yep, and it’s got your name on it,” Virgil patted the top.

“What the heck did you buy now?” Scott asked..

“Please say it’s not a whole new wardrobe of clothes you’ll insist I wear,” John groaned. 

“I promise I didn't buy anything that I’ll expect any of you to wear.”

“Then what is it?” 

“I honestly don't know.”

“Who sent it?”

“Not a clue,” I stepped closer to have a look at the packaging label. “Oh no!" Peeling it off and unfolding it to read the note.

“What? What is it? Is it dangerous?” Scott demanded to know, pushing me aside. “Virgil, did you not scan it before you brought it to the island?” 

“Of course I did, it’s clean,” he assured him.

John came over to investigate, already scanning the box, taking up position in front of me as if he expected it to explode at any moment.

“What’s inside?” Gordon wanted to know, reappearing after storing the dolly underground.

“I don’t know,” John admitted. “It’s full of stuff. There’s electricals, but the technology is ancient. I’m also registering paper, fabrics, plastics and china.”

“So it’s a box of random junk?” Alan asked.

“As far as I can tell,” John admitted. “Are you sure you didn’t buy a mystery box or something?”

“I’d know if I’d bought something or not.”

“Last week you forgot that you bought twenty notebooks because they were pretty,” Virgil reminded me.

“That...is true, but I know I didn't buy this.”

“How?” Scott asked.

“Because it’s from my mother.”

We all watched as Virgil, with an unhealthy amount of glee I thought, attacked the top of the crate with a crowbar, popping it open.

“Mum says that she's been having a clear out, using the lockdown time to sort through all the stuff in the attic. She’s packed up some of my old things, things that belonged to my grandparents and anything that she thinks ‘might be useful’.”

As soon as the top was off Gordon was there, climbing on a chair and diving in head first to have a rummage. 

“Oh my god! This is so cool! Oh, oh, can I have this?”

John lifted me up at the waist so I could look inside too.

Gordon was clutching an old handheld Game Boy Colour.

“Sure, you can have it. I think it was my brothers. Nan and Grandad kept a lot of old stuff. They didn't believe in buying anything new until the old one was broken.” Shocked gasps accompanied that little nugget of information. Typical boys, they loved having the latest technology and were constantly wanting to upgrade things and improve them. Honestly i'm surprised John didn't break out into hives just being in the same room as my old stuff.

I squirmed to get down and was lowered to the floor.

“Can we just empty it out and dig through without the crate?” I asked.

“I’m not getting out,” Gordon protested. “This is like Christmas.”

“Gordon, get out of the box,” Scott sighed. 

“You can dig through it as much as you want once I can actually see what's in there,” I promised.

“Fine,” he sighed, giving in semi-gracefully.

Half an hour later and we were surrounded by a sea of memories, all of which were being surveyed in a mixture of interest, awe and disbelief.

“This is the best surprise package ever!” Gordon yelled as he picked up a Furby. “John, do you have any batteries for this? Can you make it work?”

“What’s this thing?” Grandma poked at a box. “What’s a slow cooker?”

“Something she might need to learn how to use,” I side whispered to Scott.

I put aside the pile of old clothes I’d been sorting through and got to my feet. “Grab it and I'll show you what it does.”

Leaving the boys to deal with the unplanned yard sale in the lounge, I took Grandma to the kitchen for a crash course in late 20th century cooking courtesy of my Nan.

First things first I gave the pot a good wash and got John to check that the electrics were still safe to use and to replace the power cord to fit our outlets while we assembled some ingredients.

“We’re just making a simple stew,” I told her. “Nothing fancy, all wholesome. No work at all.”

“I like the sound of that, but I can’t say I trust the idea of a slow cooker, surely faster is better?”

“Nooo,” I assured her. “Slower is better. I promise. Trust me.”

Once John finished up and I had managed to convince Grandma that the beef didn't need to be completely cremated before we put it in the pot, along with the vegetables didn't need to be boiled within an inch of their lives and the stock didn't need to be as thick as custard. 

“No! No adding tons of spices, it’s not needed. Just use a teaspoon, nothing more, the cooker will do the rest.”

She grumbled under her breath, something about me stifling her creativity and trying to make her serve bland food, apparently the boys needed spice to put some hair on their chests.

Out of the corner of my eye I caught sight to her picking up a spoon and moving towards the pot. 

“No! No fiddling! Just toss it all in the pot, put the lid on and leave it alone.”

“Leave it alone?”

“Don’t touch it, not even once. Not for at least 6 hours. Resist temptation, don’t you dare lift that lid. Promise me?”

She didn't look convinced but promised me faithfully that she wouldn't touch it.

“I’m just gonna whip up a few dishes as a backup, just in case,” she insisted.

I gave up and left her to it.

“It’s in the lap of the gods now,” I informed them as I returned to the lounge where they had apparently been very busy. Everything had been sorted into piles and put into boxes which had been stacked beside the piano. Each had been neatly labeled by John, clothes, china, books, toys, electricals and trinkets. Though when I looked closer I saw one labeled ‘Gordon’ that was not in his handwriting. But I could let that go.

“What are you going to do with all this stuff?” Virgil asked.

“I don’t know, keep some, donate a lot, sell some bits on that site Gordon uses,” I shrugged.

“That is not all going to fit in my room,” John insisted. 

“Relax, I’ll pack up what I want to keep and take it back to my place when lockdown is over, you won't be buried in my stuff, I promise.”

He didn't look like he believed me. None of them did.

I picked a box at random and dragged it over to the couches to nose through with Gordon while the others got on with their day. I wasted a pleasant few hours taking a trip down memory lane and managed to sort through three boxes, putting aside a few things to keep and other things to donate.

“Dinner time!”

The usual scared looks passed between us as we got up and slowly made our way to our doom. The closer we got to the kitchen the weirder the smells got. There was the usual range of burnt something, overly spiced this and what the heck is that? But under that mess of scents there was something that we didn't catch too often.

Scott, being the oldest and apparently the bravest, stepped up to the plate and lifted the lid of the slow cooker, lowered his nose and sniffed cautiously.

“Don’t even bother with that,” Grandma told him. “I don’t trust it. I did as I promised and left it alone so it’s bound to be terrible.”

Scott sniffed again, inhaling deeply.

“It actually smells great.” The shock in his voice was almost comical to hear.

“It does?” Grandma looked like she didn’t believe him. “You’re not just saying that?”

“No, it’s actually good.” 

Brave boy that he is, he picked up a spoon and dipped it in, taking a tiny, experimental taste.

“Well?” Grandma leaned closer.

“It’s good.”

And that’s the story of how Grandma actually cooked something edible, that we could all enjoy and how they are now all very grateful that my mum sent me a box full of random junk.


	61. Day 61

Day 61of Isolation On Tracy Island and Gordon has spent all night playing on that old GameBoy that he found in the crate of plenty. That was fine with me, it was keeping him quiet. No, the real trouble came when I left him unsupervised.

“Look what we did!” he yelled the next morning, shoving the evil thing in my face as I sat down on the couch.

“Arghhhh” I screamed, batting at it. “Why? Why would you do that?”

“OOOHHHHH,” the thing cooed at me, its little ears wiggling.

“Who gave him batteries?” I shuddered in disgust.

“What's wrong? Don’t you like him?” he pushed it closer to me again and I swiped it away. "It's so cute." 

“Stop it! I had nightmares about that thing for years!”

“This? It’s just a toy.” He stroked the Furby and it wiggled happily, chattering back.

“Just keep it away from me, it’s evil, I'm telling you.” I shifted away, putting Scott between us as protection.

In hindsight, I maybe should have tried to hide my reaction to the beastie, because that just made it all the more fun for Gordon.

I went to make breakfast and it was in the fridge, its tinny voice greeting me. I screamed and slammed the door shut again, I could do without milk in my coffee.

I went to put laundry away and found it in the drawer with John's workout gear, snuggled into the fabric. It opened its eyes and whispered a hello.

“Nope!” I slammed the drawer shut, tossing the clothes on the bed. “He can do it himself, I’m out.”

It would be safe out by the pool, surely?

I settled in a lounger with The Prisoner of Azkaban and prepared to spend a good few hours immersed in the wizarding world.

“Goooo, Furby love.”

I glanced up to see it hanging from the underside of the parasol umbrella above me.

“Nope!”

“I have never seen you move so fast,” Virgil commented. “I think you just took off faster than Thunderbird One.”

“Get that thing away from me!” I demanded.

“Fine, I’ll save you,” he plucked the Furby from its perch. 

“Go lock it away somewhere it can’t get out of.”

“You know it’s a toy, right?”

“That’s what it wants you to think,” I told him wisely.

“Sure, it does,” he laughed, taking it away.

I was left alone until after dinner, when I decided I needed a rest after the trials of the day. I was craving a nice bath and an early night in bed with my book.

The water was the perfect temperature, the room glowed with soft candlelight, I’d opened the comms to hear Virgil’s music from the lounge, this had the potential to be totally bissfull…

“Cooee.”

“Holy crap on a stick!” Peace shattered. 

“Coooeee.”

“Nope, nope, so much nope.” I grabbed a towel and made a mad dash for the bedroom, leaving a trail of water and bubbles in my wake.

To say that John was surprised to have me crash through the door less than ten minutes after I’d left would be an understatement. He actually checked his watch, I usually like at least an hour of soaking time.

“Something wrong?”

“That cursed relic is in the bathroom somewhere!”

“The what now?”

“That evil Furby! It was evil when my brother got it as a retro Christmas gift and it's still evil now. That thing haunted my teenage years, I'd hear it in the middle of the night, giggling away from his room, crying if you put it in a cupboard to nap, just the creepiest thing in the world. And for me to say that, you know it has to be bad. And now it’s doing it again. It never died, it just hid away in the attic, biding its time, ready for some ignorant fool to bring it back to life by feeding it a sacrifice of fresh batteries.”

“Tad dramatic, love.”

“So you say,” I flopped down on the bed. “Go get it. Kill it with fire. Then kill Gordon after.”

He gave me a look that said he wished he was anywhere but there right at that moment, but sighed and did as he was told. I took that time to dry off and get dressed, stealing a pair of his PJ’s, womens are always far too short for me.

He was back a few minutes later with the beastie tucked under his arm, unsurprised to find I'd raided his clothes again.

“What part of kill it with fire didn't you understand?”

“The part where you actually expect me to destroy an old toy just because it creeps you out and my brother is using it to his advantage.”

“Where was it this time?”

“In the cabinet.”

I shuddered in horror.

“It’s fine, there’s nothing scary about it.” He placed it on his bedside table where it immediately began to shriek like a banshee.

“Shut it up!” I demanded.

He poked at it, he tried to gag it, but nothing worked, it just screamed louder.

In desperation he found a small toolkit in his bedside drawer and took the batteries out. Finally it was silenced.

“People are gonna think you were murdering me,” I commented.

“Like they would believe that, it's far more likely to be the other way around.”

I narrowed my eyes at him but he wasn't looking. He was too busy fiddling with the furry terror.

“What are you doing?”

“Just hold this a second.” He yanked at the bottom of the Furby. Its fuzz peeled off like a banana skin and he casually handed it to me. I dropped it immediately. 

“Eww. That's disturbing.”

“Not how I was planning on spending my evening,” he admitted, as he prised open a small control panel that hid its brain. “Pass me my old watch, will you?”

Intrigued I fetched it from the box on his shelf and handed it over. He opened it up and stripped the inside out, spreading it out on the table top. 

He carefully removed a couple of chips from the Furby and selected a couple of bits of something I could never hope of identifying to replace them with. He closed the panel and dressed it in its fluff again before inserting the batteries.

“No, don’t give it life again!”

“Shhh, just watch.”

He placed it on the table and clapped his hands. The thing sprang to life, cooing softly, its ears wiggling, eyes blinking. But it wasn't speaking.

“What did you do to it?”

He didn't answer straight away. He picked up his comm, pressed a few buttons and spoke into it. To my horror and I'll admit, fascination it spoke as he did, but in its own creepy voice.

I stared at it, my eyes wide.

“You are an evil genius.”

“And don’t you forget it.” He locked the thing in his drawer. “Tomorrow we teach Gordon a lesson he won't forget.”


	62. Day 62

Day 62 of Isolation on Tracy Island and today felt like a good day for revenge!

Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely adore Gordon, hell I love all the boys, but the younger two can be a handful at times and now and then you have to remind them who is boss. That was the point that we were at.

We got up early and tracked down a few accomplices that were more than willing to help us out with our plot and snuck the Furby into Gordon’s room. Now, we would wait.

Gordon emerged from his room about three hours later, carrying the Furby.

“I found your little friend,” he greeted me, waving the Furby as proof. “What were you expecting to achieve by leaving it at the end of my bed?”

“Nothing,” I frowned. “I just thought you might want him back, that's all.”

“Sure, that's all.”

“It is,” I shrugged, sipping my coffee.

“So it won't be a problem if I leave him here then?” He placed it on the table in front of me.

“No problem at all,” I assured him. “Hi fuzzy-butt, did you have a good sleep?”

Gordon looked at me suspiciously as he poured himself a glass of orange juice, but there was nothing he could say or do to prove that anything untoward was going on.

I went back to my toast and my tablet where I was busy sorting through my files and arranging them into folders (yes, that's what I had been reduced to in my need to be productive after more than 60 days) when the Furby moved. 

Gordon waited for me to freak out, and honestly it did make me jump, but I was trying so hard not to give him the satisfaction.

“He’s awake,” Gordon intoned in a deep and creepy voice. 

“I see this,” I commented, patting it on the head.

“I love you,” the Furby warbled.

“Aww, I love you too, Furby,” I replied. “It’s kinda sweet once you get to know it.”

I tried so hard not to react to the slightly disappointed look on Gordon’s face.

“So you don’t think it’s haunted any more?” he stole a piece of my toast.

“No.”

“Bet you feel a bit silly now, being scared of a toy now you know it’s not haunted?” he grinned.

“Who said it wasn't haunted?” I didn't look up from my screen.

“What? You just did.”

“No, I said no. Meaning no, I dont still think it’s haunted.”

“That's what I just said!”

“I dont think it’s haunted, I know it’s haunted.”

“Don’t be silly,” he laughed. “How would you know?”

“It told me,” I grabbed the last piece of toast and my tablet and stood up. "We had quite an in depth chat last night."

“It’s a toy,” he scoffed. “It’s programmed to respond to you. I looked it up, they have pre-programmed words and the more you talk to them the more words they say. They have no ability to record or learn.”

“You keep telling yourself that, boo.” I booped him on the nose and left him with the furry monster. 

Making myself scarce I let myself into the Round House, the new base of operations, where John, Scott and VIrgil were waiting for me.

“How did it go?” John asked.

“The seeds have been planted,” I answered cryptically. Not for any real reason, only that it was fun.

“Excellent, on to the next round.”

For the next hour we took it in turns to make random noises into his comm, spacing it out so that they happened every three to four minutes. We eee’d, we kaaaa’d, we squeaked and cooed, throwing up in the odd words like food, love or hug. It was disturbing, but oddly fun.

“OK, you’re up,” John said, handing over the baton to me and Scott. We had an acting job to get to.

We found Gordon, with the Furby, in the lounge.

“Hey," he greeted us, not looking up from his phone where he was watching a show.

“Hey,” Scott answered, getting comfy on the couch. I curled up next to him with my book and prepared to try my damndest not to laugh.

“Coooeeee!”

“It’s off again,” Gordon laughed. “It’s been chatting the whole time since you left.”

“Maybe it missed me,” I replied.

“Missed you,” it parroted back.

“Aww that’s cute,” Gordon smiled. “It must be learning already.”

“Cute,” it echoed.

Silence descended for around ten minutes.

“Tickle!” The Furby suddenly demanded. “Tickle. Feed me!”

“It’s hungry,” I told Gordon. “You had better feed it.”

“Feed me!”

For the next few minutes Gordon sat there with his finger in its mouth as it made nom nom noises and burped occasionally.

“Love you!” it chirped.

“Aww, hi Furby,” I chatted back to it.

“Hi, Hi, Hi,” it echoed.

“Should it know how to respond like that?” Scott asked, looking up from his magazine. "I thought it didn't record?" 

“It’s just a toy,” Gordon laughed dismissively. 

“What’s going on?” Alan asked, bounding into the room.

“Gordon is feeding his haunted Furby,” I answered.

“It’s not haunted,” Gordon scoffed.

“Weeeeee!” The Furby yelled.

“OK, that’s creepy,” Alan shuddered. “I don’t like it.”

“This is getting old, anyone want a cup of coffee?” I asked. 

“Coffee, Furby want.”

Gordon’s eyes grew a little wide but he hid it well.

“OK, how did you do that?”

“Do what?” 

“Make it answer you.”

I gave him that look that said he was being particularly dense. “I spent all day yesterday teaching it to answer back, in between screaming bouts of terror.” I rolled my eyes and headed to the kitchen.

I made use of the five minutes it took to make the coffee to let John and Virgil know how things were progressing and to give them further instructions.

“Coffee,” I announced, placing the tray on the table. A chorus of thanks answered me.

“Tanks,” Furby joined in.

Alan jumped, Gordon looked disturbed.

“It’s a coincidence,” Alan hedged.

“No it’s not, she's doing something,” Gordon answered, his eyes narrowing in my direction.

“Or John is,” Alan agreed.

“What am I doing?” John asked as he appeared in the doorway.

“Hi!” greeted Furby. John waved a hand at it in acknowledgement. 

Gordon and Alan exchanged glances.

“Tickle!”

“No.”

“Tickle!”

“This is getting boring,” Gordon groaned as it continued to demand tickles and tell him it loved him at regular intervals. “How do you shut it up?”

I shrugged. 

He pulled out his phone to look it up. “Apparently you have to leave it in a dark place to make it fall asleep.” He grabbed the Furby and stuffed it into Jeff’s desk drawer.

Peace reigned for over an hour. Scott excused himself to go for a run, John took his vacated spot beside me and Virgil joined us about ten minutes after Scott left.

“See, it’s gone to sleep now,” Gordon commented to Alan.

“Out!”

“What was that?” Virgil asked, looking concerned.

"He spoke too soon," I groaned. 

“Out!”

“Was that the Furby?” Alan whispered, going pale.

“It’s probably just woken up or something,” Gordon soothed. "It heard us and responded." 

“Want out!”

“Go and get it,” Alan insisted. “It want’s you.”

“No it doesn't,” Gordon scoffed, but there was an edge to his tone that said he wasn't as confident as he appeared.

“Gooooo,” it called.

“What’s it saying now?” Alan asked.

"I wouldn't ignore the ghost," I advised him. 

“It’s just talking nonsense again, it’s programmed that way,” Gordon flopped back down again. "It's not haunted, it's not alive and it doesn't know anything!" 

“Goooorrdon!”

“I’m out of here!” Alan was off quicker than Grandma when she spies a sale.

“Gordon, love me!”

“Wait for me!” Gordon shot off after Alan like he had a rocket up his butt.

“That, was glorious,” I giggled as John retrieved the Furby and took the batteries out.

“How long do you think we should leave it before we tell them the truth?” Virgil asked.

“At least until bedtime,” Scott answered, coming over to receive his well earned high five.


	63. Day 63

Day 63 of Isolation on Tracy Island and today Alan and I got our way.

Cast your minds back to the day that we were forced into slavery by Grandma in the form of housework, and our little plot to organise a lip sync battle. For some reason best known to ourselves we were completely stuck on the idea and firmly believed that it would be the best thing in the entire world. Yes, that's the point we were at in our social isolation journey.

“Let’s make this a good one,” I insisted. “I’m talking full costumes, wardrobe cosplay meets battle of the bands.”

“How are we going to do that?” Alan asked, obviously intrigued.

“We just don’t give them a choice.”

“Yeah, right,” he snorted. “I know my brothers, nothing will make them do something they don't want to.”

I cackled out my best evil queen laugh. 

“Oh, you poor sweet darling boy. Ye of little faith, how dare you doubt me. I’ll have you know that I can get your brothers to do anything.”

“How? Because I need to learn this trick.”

“Watch and learn, young grasshopper.”

“Why are you calling me an insect?”

I shook my head sadly. “Your pop culture education is seriously lacking, but that's a tomorrow problem.” I stood up and struck a pose, pointing dramatically towards the hall. “To the bedroom!”

Half an hour later we had three boxes of the old clothes that my mum had sent, ranging from the 1960’s to the 1990’s, there were also wigs and hats, even some old jewelry. There would literally be something for everyone.

“Right, let’s get dressed,” I told him. 

“Without them? Shouldn’t we get them to agree to it first?”

I shook my head. “Nope, that would be your first mistake. You don’t ask them, they will always say no. What you do is start doing it and let them see what they are missing.”

Realisation dawned on him and he started digging into the first box.

***

Scott wandered in half way through our second song. He stopped in the doorway, taking in the sight before him.

“Do I even want to know?”

We ignored him and continued to rock out, miming along to the words.

“You keep on saying you'll be mine for a while  
You're lookin' fancy, and I like your style  
You drive us wild, we'll drive you crazy  
And you show us everything you've got  
Baby, baby, that's quite a lot  
And you drive us wild, we'll drive you crazy”

I beckoned him over and offered him an air guitar.

He hesitated for a few seconds then nodded in agreement, reaching out a hand.

“Not unless you’re dressed for the occasion,” I told him, withdrawing my offer of an instrument and pointing to the boxes.

He gave in gracefully and selected his outfit.

“You keep on shoutin', you keep on shoutin'”

Scott dragged on a pair of bell bottoms that looked like John Travolta might have owned them and unbttoned his shirt to half mast, draping a big fake gold chain around his neck. He tied a bandana around his head and called it good.

He took the air guitar and struck a pose.

Gordon joined us next, he needed no convincing, he ran straight in, dived in the box and pulled up a chair to his air drums.

Virgil was next, along with Jeff. Virgil went straight for an air keyboard, standing opposite Gordon. Jeff had decided that an air saxophone was the only thing that would be acceptable to him.

Grandma didn't want to sing, but she wanted to dress up, claiming it was a reminder of her childhood, while Kayo refused to enter the lounge at all. 

John was the last to appear and even then it was by accident. He came in looking for his notebook and was met with the sight of all of us rocking out, dressed to impress.

Virgil was wearing full hippy garb, looking like he’d raided the wardrobe of Shaggy from Scooby Doo but with neater hair. 

Gordon...well he didn't look that much different really, he was wearing a tie dyed shirt and hawaian shorts, topped off with a tinsel wig. 

Jeff had found a suit with a really wide tie along with a snazzy hat and was attempting to do Madness dancing. 

Alan was wearing a pair of hammer pants and a baggy baseball shirt and I was looking very much like 70’s Cher.

“What are you all doing?”

"She says, "We've gotta hold on to what we've got  
It doesn't make a difference if we make it or not  
We've got each other and that's a lot  
For love we'll give it a shot," we all 'sang' not breaking our stride. 

"I'm serious, why are you all dressed like that?" 

"Whoa, we're half-way there  
Whoa, livin' on a prayer  
Take my hand, we'll make it. I swear  
Whoa, livin' on a prayer!" 

He shook his head in disbelief as Scott strummed at nothing, Gordon banged the air and Jeff launched into a sax solo. 

I jumped down from the box I was using as a makeshift stage and boogied my way over. 

"No way!" 

I grabbed his hand, pulling him forward. 

"No! You know I don't dance."

"Tommy's got his six string in hock  
Now he's holding in  
What he used to make it talk  
So tough, it's tough," I mimed, looping my arms around his neck, forcing him to move with me or fall over. 

"Come on, have a little fun," I wheedled. 

He sighed that long suffering sigh of his. 

"I am not wearing any of those things."

"Just a wig?"I begged."Pleeeeeease." 

"Will it shut you up?" 

I nodded. 

"Fine." He gave in somewhat gracefully letting me settle a long, curly purple Wig on his head. 

"Pick your instrument," I offered, gesturing at nothing. 

"But…" John looked like he'd rather be anywhere than with us at that moment. "I guess I'll take a guitar too."

Alan passed one over. 

John reached out for the thin air and tucked it in close to his chest, pushing the wig hair back over his shoulder. 

"Ready everyone? We've got a full band now, let's make it count," Gordon cheered. 

We all nodded and he hit play. 

The intro hit and I noticed a tiny flicker of a smile at the corner of John's lips. 

Gordon drummed out a starter then settled into a nice rhythm, his foot bouncing in time. 

Scott was already in his power stance, legs apart, knees slightly bent, his left hand already strumming his 'guitar', fingers picking out the cords. 

"I get up, and nothin' gets me down  
You got it tough, I've seen the toughest around  
And I know, baby, just how you feel  
You got to roll with the punches and get to what's real." I 'sang' along, my hands holding an imaginary microphone stand which I was using as an enthusiastic dance partner. 

Virgil started picking out some notes on his 'keyboard' and Jeff attempted to shoehorn some saxophone moments into a song where they just didn't fit but he was committed and not about to change his mind now. 

Alan was on bass and loving life. He nudged John who slowly, hesitantly, began to strum along. 

"Ah, can't you see me standin' here  
I got my back against the record machine  
I ain't the worst that you've seen  
Ah, can't you see what I mean?" 

The music kicked into a higher gear and so did we. 

"Ah, might as well jump  
Might as well jump  
Go ahead an' jump  
Go ahead and jump  
Ow oh, hey you  
Who said that?  
Baby, how you been?  
You say you don't know  
You won't know until you begin." 

We bounced around, 'singing' along. Scott and Alan made a brilliant double act, leaning back to back as they played enthusiastically. 

John was nowhere near as into it as we were. I had to do something about that. 

I slid my arms around his waist from behind and grabbed his hands, directing his movements as I rocked from side to side, forcing him to sway with me. 

Finally he started to loosen up and actually enjoy it, continuing to move on his own when I moved back a bit. 

We geared up for the finale, bouncing like crazy, letting out all our pent up energy. 

"So can't ya see me standing here  
I got my back against the record machine  
I ain't the worst that you've seen  
Ah, can't you see what I mean?" 

Alan dragged John into a guitar solo with him, his enthusiasm finally breaking through the last of John's control as he settled into his own version of the guitar playing power stance, his fingers dancing in mid-air. 

I bounced over, holding out my imaginary microphone to first one then the other, allowing them to 'sing' with me. 

"Ah, might as well jump  
Go ahead and jump  
Might as well jump   
Go ahead and jump  
Jump  
Might as well jump   
Go ahead and jump  
Get it in, jump   
Go ahead and jump." 

Wigs were flying in all directions as heads banged back and forth and to my intense delight I saw some flashes of curly purple in the mix. 

We collapsed in a laughing heap on the couches as the song wound down. 

"I need a beer," Jeff announced and more enthusiastic cheers met his announcement. 

***

"So, are you glad you joined in?" I asked John later that night as we chilled out by the pool, leaving the others inside where they're were talking and laughing animatedly, lubricated by a few drinks. 

"It wasn't too terrible."

"Admit it, you enjoyed yourself."

"It was good to let loose a little," he allowed. 

"So you'd do it again?" 

"Possibly," he hedged. "But I refuse to wear that wig again." 

"OK," I agreed, though I think we both knew I was just humouring him. I'd have him wearing a flared jumpsuit by the end of the week.


	64. Day 64

Day 64 of Isolation on Tracy Island and John and I made a terrible mistake today. What mistake could you possibly have made, I hear you ask? Well, we made a serious error in judgement...OK , I’ll admit it, I made the error in judgement, if I don't correct that John will do it for me. I thought that it might be a fun idea to record Live from Five on the island for once and get the other boys involved. Yes, I know, I had a case of the dumb. I've been told it frequently over the last four hours.

“OK, we’re out, we’re done,” I sighed, never having been so relieved to have cut a feed. Usually we’re on our own up there and take the chance to have a few hours of quiet. Not this time. 

“That was fun,” Alan grinned.

“Not how I would have described it,” John muttered, getting up and heading to the kitchen for a drink.

“It was fun to answer questions,” Gordon added, ignoring the grump that was his brother.

“That wasn't all of them,” I replied. “There were some more, but I picked out some of the best ones.”

“What were the others?” Scott asked.

“Oh you know, boring things like favorite food, favorite subjects at school, that sort of thing.”

“Yep, boring,” Gordon yawned. “Nothing else?”

I handed him my tablet to have a look at. He scrolled through the questions that had been submitted.

“Boring...rubbish...not answering that...hey, why didn't you ask this one?”

“Which one?”

“This one,” he pointed.

“If you could be any superhero, who would you be?” I read over his shoulder. "Huh, I must have missed that one."

"Yeah, that's a great question. Who would I be?" 

“Well that’s easy, Gordo, you would be Aquaman,” Virgil answered promptly. “Powerful in the water.”

"Hell yeah, King of Atlantis, can talk to sea creatures. I'd love that."

“Virgil would be the Hulk,” Alan joined in. “Big and green and likes to smash things.”

“I would not!” He looked genuinely insulted by that. 

“No, you would be Superman,” Gordon told him. “Strong, dependable, always on the side of good.”

“That’s better. Ruggedly handsome too."

“Who would you be?” I asked Scott.

“I don’t know.”

“You’d be Captain America,” Alan told him. 

I thought about it for a second then nodded. “Yeah, you’re right, he’d make a great Captain America.”

“I would?”

“Sure you would!” Alan assured him.

“Yeah, think about it. Military guy, stands up for injustice, born leader, smart as anything, always got a plan, always gets the job done,” I told him, ticking off items on my fingers.

"You would definitely be Captain America," Kayo agreed. 

“Jeff would be Nick Fury, just done with everyones crap and needs a vacation.”

“I can very much agree with that,” Jeff muttered from his desk where he was trying to work, emphasis on the trying.

“Or Tony Stark, inventing things to save the world,” I pondered out loud. “You wanna be Iron Man, Jeff?”

“Do I get any cool gadgets?”

“You get a super suit!”

“That’ll do. Yes, I’ll be him then.”

“Who would I be?” Alan wanted to know, bouncing in his seat, excited to hear people's suggestions.

“Spiderman,” I answered without any hesitation. “Definitely Spidey. Cute, brave, funny, yep, that's you."

“Yeah,” he grinned. “I can dig that. I’d make a great spiderman.”

“Who would you be?” Scott asked me.

“Is there a superhero called Couch Potato girl? Because that's me.”

“I don’t think there is,” Scott laughed.

“I don't know then! There isn't that many to choose from that don’t have really depressing backstories. Maybe Catwoman? Or Scarlet Witch? No, she’s had a miserable time of it too. Batgirl? She’s not too bad, she just wants to help out and do some good.” I was stumped.

“Batgirl could work. Catwoman isn't really a hero, more of a villian,” Virgil mused.

“I’ve always had a soft spot for the villainous type though, I’ve always thought that most of them just had a bad day.”

They all cracked up laughing. 

“A bad day?” Scott howled. “That’s your reason? They had a bad day?”

“Well, yeah,” I shrugged. “Think about it, they get hit by radiation, they get sucked into their invention, someone throws them in acid. It’s just bad luck really.”

“Oh, no,” Gordon was actually crying, wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes. “You cannot excuse them like that.”

“Sure I can, I make excuses for you all the time.”

That set them off again, everyone laughing for a good minute before they pulled themselves together.

“Kayo would be Black Widow,” Gordon continued once he could breathe again. 

“Definitely,” I agreed. “She’s kickass, she's sassy and she takes no crap. Totally her."

"I can live with that," she nodded. "She's not a wuss and doesn't just wait around to be saved. She's deadly and a super spy too."

"So, what you're telling us is that you are actually Black Widow and you've been undercover this entire time?" Gordon joked. 

"Yes, I'm a deadly assassin, sleep with one eye open." 

"That's not creepy at all." 

“Would Grandma be Aunt May?” Alan asked. 

“Probably, she’s pretty cool.”

“Here’s the real question though, would you be Team Cap or Team Iron Man?” I asked.

“Obviously Team Cap,” Scott answered. “I can’t abandon myself.”

“Team Cap too,” Alan added.

“What’s all this about teams?” Jeff asked, apparently taking more notice of us than we had thought.

“Team Captain America or Team Iron Man,” Alan answered. “There was a time when the government tried to get all superheros to register with them and work for them rather than on their own. Captain America didn't believe in it, Iron Man did. It split the group.”

“Well, considering we’re currently sitting on a private island and part of a privately funded group that doesn't work for anyone but saves people on a daily basis, I'd have to be on Captain America's side."

"You'd leave your own team?" Virgil laughed. 

"If they were being idiots, sure."

That got us giggling again, Jeff was in one of his very best moods, slightly exasperated with a side of smartass. He was always good for a laugh then. 

"I'd be Team Cap too," Virgil added. 

"So would I," Gordon agreed. 

"Me too," I said. 

"So no one is Team Iron Man?" Kayo asked. 

"Are you? And bear in mind, we will all judge you on your answer," I warned her. 

"Team Cap all the way."

"What did I miss?" John asked, coming back with his iced coffee and handing me a can of cherry coke. Boy is so well trained. I blew him a kiss in thanks. 

"Where's mine?" Gordon asked. 

"Fridge, go get it yourself," John stepped over my legs and shoved Alan out of his seat. "Why are you on the floor?" 

"Because it's comfy." 

"The fridge is so far away," Gordon whined, lifting an arm and then letting it drop pathetically. "How comes she doesn't have to get her own?" 

"Because I actually like her, that and she made lunch."

I stuck my tongue out at Gordon and popped the tab, taking a satisfying sip. 

"So mean," he pouted. "I make food too."

"No, you just make a mess," I argued. 

"So, what were you all talking about," John asked. 

"Superheros," I answered leaning against his legs, using them as a back rest. "One of the questions we got sent was if you could be a superhero, who would you be."

"I'm Captain America." 

"I'm Superman." 

"Spiderman!" 

"Iron guy."

"Iron man," Alan corrected. 

"I'm thirsty," Gordon moaned, sneaking out a hand to steal my can. "And also Aqua Man."

"I'd be Black Widow." 

"And who are you?" John asked me. 

"I couldn't decide. I liked the villains too much," I swatted at Gordon's hand before it reached my drink. 

"You're always awkward."

"It's both a blessing and a curse," I admitted, unable to deny it. 

"John, who would you be?" Alan asked. 

John thought about it for a moment or two then answered confidently. 

"Batman."

"Seriously? Batman? Why would you want to be Batman?" Gordon asked, distracted from his attempted thievery. 

"Probably because he's dark and brooding and likes to hide in his cave," Scott laughed. 

John shook his head. 

"Because you get the Batmobile?" Virgil guessed. 

"Nope."

"Cool gadgets on your utility belt?" I offered. 

"Nope."

"Then why?" Alan demanded to know. 

"Because he's an only child."


	65. Day 65

Day 65 of isolation on Tracy Island and there was something weird going on.

“Arghhh, no! Get off you crazy machine!” I swiped at MAX as he rolled silently up behind Scott. “That was just too close for comfort, he almost got you.” Itt was the third time I’d caught him sneaking up behind one of us and I didn't trust him one bit. You want to know why? Because he was brandishing a pair of hair clippers. That was just asking for trouble.

“Stupid bag of bolts,” Scott yelped as he dived out of the way. 

“What is with him lately?” Gordon grumbled, “he tried it with me yesterday while I was sunbathing.”

“And me while I was playing my game,” Alan added.

“Well, you are all looking a little worse for wear now,” I hedged. Who was I kidding, a little worse for wear? No, they were growing hair faster than a teenager in puberty. 

Scott had stolen a hairband from me and was currently sporting a half pony, Virgil was rapidly developing a flock of seagulls fringe as his hair grew heavier and lost its battle with gravity. Alan had resorted to a man bun, it was tiny, but it was there and it was just the cutest thing that I couldn't stop flicking it, much to his annoyance. John was still in his Disney bangs stage, his front curl growing out and flopping forward with the weight of the extra length. And Gordon, well...he was just a mess quite honestly, growing long all over with no discernible shape to it and no way to tame it. 

The problem was none of us had the skills or guts to try to do anything about it. They had all agreed that it was best to just let it grow out and wrestle it into submission rather than risk a cut. You could always take more away but you couldn't put it back on. They would wait until they could get to an actual barber.

“Where is Brains?” I wondered out loud. “Why is he letting MAX roam freely with instruments of destruction?”

“Have any of you guys actually seen Brains lately?” Scott asked.

We all stopped what we were doing at the same instant, like something out of a cartoon, listen, think, realisation, FREEZE. Slowly, one by one, we each shook our heads.

“I’ve not seen him since Wednesday,” Virgil answered.

“Probably Monday for me, but I don’t spend much time in the labs,” I answered slowly, trying to cast my mind back.

“Wednesday too,” John confirmed.

“He has to be somewhere,” Gordon said.   
Food was vanishing from the fridge and the pantry in the middle of the night, bottles of water and juice were growing legs and walking away but we never saw any of it leave. We were used to him never turning up for meals because he was buried in his work, but this was getting ridiculous.

“Don’t you think we should go and look for him?” I asked, just a wee bit concerned.

“Nah, you know how he is when he’s busy, he hates to be disturbed. Remember that time he pitched a fit when Scott walked in and he threw his model on the floor?” Alan reminded us. 

“Oh, yeah, I remember that,” Scott nodded. 

“No, come on now you guys, we can’t just ignore this and not bother to check on him, what if somethings wrong? He could be having a really tough time and need his friends and you lot are just gonna sit around on your butts and keep watching Friends?”

They exchanged glances but didn't look convinced.

“He really does hate to be disturbed,” Virgil said. “You’ve never seen him angry.”

I sighed, rolling my eyes.

“Bunch of wimps! Seriously, it’s Brains, how bad can it be?”

They declined to comment.

“Fine, I’ll go.”

“Don’t say we didn't warn you,” Scott warned me, going back to the game he was playing with Alan on the games console.

“So none of you are coming with me?” 

Nothing, they all avoided looking at me.

I propped my hands on my hips and brought out the raised eyebrow of doom. 

Gordon nudged John, who glanced over at me. I waited. He got up.

***

“The door’s locked,” I said, quite unnecessarily really. It was quite plain to see that no amount of pushing or pulling was making it budge.

“Brains?” I knocked on the door. “Are you OK in there?” 

We listened carefully but heard nothing.

“He’s just busy,” John assured me but I wasn't convinced.

“Brains!” I yelled. “Answer us!”

We heard a noise inside but the door didn't open.

“Go away! I don’t wish to be d...disturbed!”

“Does he sound funny to you?” I asked John. He shrugged. Typical man.

“I’m putting my foot down, come out. It’s not good for you to be locked away for days. You need human contact, you need to talk to people. You’ll go mad in there on your own!”

No answer.

“I’m really worried about him.”

“Let’s give him a few hours, if he’s not out by then we’ll try again.”

I nodded, that's about all we could do.

“We’re going away for a bit, but we WILL BE BACK!” I yelled through the door. “So unless you want us breaking in, you had better come out and let us know youre still alive. You got three hours, Brainiac!”

We headed back to the lounge to update everyone on the situation and in my case, to start a timer. I was deadly serious, if he wasn’t out in three hours I was sending Virgil in to go full out hulk smash on the lab door.

Two hours and forty-eight minutes later and we heard a noise behind us. There was a beep and a whirl as MAX zoomed in, followed by the shuffling of feet.

We all looked up just as Brains popped his head around the door frame.

“A...as you can see, I am q...quite well, there will be no need for f...further threats,” his head withdrew again and he began to make his escape.

“Hey, Brains, don’t run off, come in and sit with us for a bit,” Virgil invited.

“Yeah, Brains, we haven't seen you in days, you can’t spend all your time stuck in your lab you know,” Gordon said, joining in.

“I...I’d rather n...not. I am rather busy.”

I have a highly tuned radar for suspicious activity, and that lad was being the most evasive that i’d ever witnessed.

“What’s going on?” 

“N...nothing!” Brains shifted uncomfortably and that's when we spotted his head.

“Why are you wearing a hat in doors?” Scott asked.

“No reason! I really must get back,” he turned away but MAX, trying to help, got there first. His arm, the one holding the clippers, shot out aimed at his head. Brains tried to duck at the same time as MAX moved, resulting in a midair collision that knocked his hat flying.

We all gasped, stunned at the sight of Brains with a completely bald head.

“Don’t look, I l..l...look awful.”

“What the heck happened, Brains?” Virgil asked, the only one of us that had enough self control to speak without laughing. I admit it, I had my face buried in Gordon’s chest and wasn't able to come out for a good few minutes while he had collapsed over my back, struggling to breathe as he attempted to hold in his laughter.

Max reached out again, his clippers buzzing and it was suddenly all too obvious exactly what had occurred.

“M...MAX’s new programming didn't go quite to p...plan. This was the only way I c...could see to fix it”

And here, in the villa lounge, we see the Brains, king of the understatement,out of his natural habitat and regretting all his life choices.


	66. Day 66

Day 66 of Isolation of Isolation on Tracy Island and Virgil and I have been very busy putting together some ideas for things to send out to bored children stuck in lockdown. All of us have contributed but the rest of the boys and Kayo were intent on producing their own things. I wasn't about to rock the boat by asking what they were doing, I was just happy that they were actually doing something constructive for once. It had been rather weird to see just how well they had taken to the lounging lifestyle of lockdown. Where once they were in a constant state of the zoomies, they were now more than happy to laze around on the couch and not move all day. Sometimes you had to physically move them or tempt them with food like a dog with a treat. Come here, Alan, good boy, follow the cookie!

“What about this one?” Virgil asked me, pushing his tablet my way. 

“Oh,yes, that's brilliant, I love it! This was such a good idea, I'm so glad we did this.”

“Me too!” he grinned, but then his smile dropped a tiny bit. “Do you really think they will like them?”

“Numpty,'' I punched his arm gently, though it was like hitting granite and I doubt I could ever hurt him if I tried. “They are gonna love them. Who wouldn't?”

He shrugged. 

“Hang on just one second and I’ll prove it.” I jumped up and crossed over to the door and opened my mouth, yelling at the top of my lungs. “Everyone to the kitchen!” I have much practice in this, I can shout over any of them even at their most noisy and no one would dare to ignore me except Brains who ignores everyone when he's in a mood. I went off to gather supplies.

Alan was the first to appear, closely followed by Gordon. Scott wandered in next, with Jeff just after, Grandma next, then Kayo, with John wandering in last and only because I caught up with him in the lounge and forced him to obey. I gave him one of the boxes I was carrying and followed after him.

Everyone had settled around the kitchen table where we had been camped out by the time John and I returned. They all looked at Virgil expectantly.

“Don’t look at me,” Virgil said. “She’s the one that yelled.”

“We just wanted to share our project with you all and see if you would test it out for us,” I told them.

“Sure, what do we have to do?” Alan asked, always willing to please.

I took the box off John, opened it and then dumped it out on the table top, coloured pencils and pens raining down, rolling in all directions.

“We made colouring pages, obviously Picasso here has done the bulk of the drawing and they are amazing, now we need them tested out.”

“You want us to do colouring? Like kids?” Scott asked, not looking convinced.

“No, like adults.”

“Not gonna happen,” John shook his head.

“You guys dont have to,” Virgil assured them, “I told her it was a stupid idea.”

I smacked him again. “Hush, we won't force them.”

“I’m down to try,” Gordon was already searching through the pens to find colours he liked.

I added a small pile of print outs to the table and let them select the ones they wanted.

Gordon and Alan went straight for their crafts while Scott picked out a cartoon Virgil to colour. Grandma took her time to look through the pile before picking out a picture. Virgil had outdone himself, doing simplified cartoon designs of the crafts, his brothers and a few action scenes. They were absolutely amazing and I didnt know how he could think differently.

I picked out a cartoon of John and started colouring him in. John, Kayo and Jeff just watched and I could see Virgil’s eyes flicking in their direction but I gave him a picture of Thunderbird Two to colour and he got to work.

It took a few minutes, but eventually Jeff reached out a hand and snagged a picture of Thunderbird One and selected a nice grey to start colouring in the body. 

John was next, sneakily reaching out a hand to snag a piece of paper, starting to colour in Alan’s suit.

Kayo held out the longest, made an impatient huffing noise as she gave in and picked out Thunderbird Shadow to colour.

Virgil slid a look my way and I smiled back at him. I love being proven right, no one can resist the lure of a colouring page no matter how old they are. Everyone had their heads down and were concentrating hard on keeping in the lines, it was peaceful and nice to all be together doing the same thing.

“Aww, this is nice,” I commented, sharing a pen with Virgil because we are adults and can do that sort of thing.

As is often the case, I spoke too soon. I jinxed it. I’m dumb. I will never learn.

“Hey! I needed that one!” Alan smacked at Gordon as Gordon stole the pen he wanted. Alan had finished his picture of Three and had moved on to coloring a scene of Two and Four.

“Tough, I got there first.”

“Boys, let’s not fight,” Jeff scolded mildly, not really putting much effort into it.

Alan glared but found another colour that he thought might work. Gordon, being the little sod that he is, didn't even use the pen, putting it back down again as soon as Alan was distracted.

“Why have you made my hair blue?” John asked me. 

“Because you’re fancy.”

“It’s really not my colour.” 

“That’s for me to decide.”

He shook his head but didn't bother arguing with me, even when I started colouring his suit in purple .

“I look really good,” Virgil praised Scott as he finished up the picture and moved on to colouring in Sherbert. 

We all jumped when a sudden choking cough broke the quiet. My head shot up in time to see Gordon take a pen lid out of his mouth. I swear that boy isn't safe to be left unsupervised, he's a danger to himself.

Jeff finished his picture and moved on to another, while I started colouring in Scott.

Kayo was working hard on her picture of Shadow and , obviously feeling creative, had taken the cartoon drawing of herself, coloured it and cut it out to place next to Shadow on her page. 

Grandma was trying to collect one of every grandson and stole my completed picture of John.

Alan, getting even for the pen incident, grabbed a picture of Gordon and started the process of turning him into an alien. Gordon got annoyed and scribbled over the face. There was almost a fight...I don't want to get into it right now. I distracted them with cookies and took the pens away, leaving them with just the colouring pencils.

“Got any milk?” Alan asked me, smiling adorably.

“Sure.”

I opened the fridge to get the milk, frowning when I saw a red sock tied through the handle of the milk jug. 

“Scott?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you put this on that pile behind you?” 

I tossed him the sock.

He caught it one handed, raising his fist in triumph as he leapt to his feet.

“Finally! Scotty is a free elf!” he yelled, making everyone jump as he raced out of the kitchen, waving the sock above his head .

“I told you it wasnt me that was hiding them!” 

And that was how we found out why there were socks appearing all over the house and that it wasn't Gordon after all. But at least Virgil now knows that I was right, no one can say no to a colouring page.


	67. Day 67

Day 67 of Isolation on Tracy Island and today I learnt that the Tracy’s and I have totally different ideas of how to protect ourselves.

Some of us were watching a movie and some of us, namely Kayo, were attacking everyone stupid enough to go near enough. 

“Arghhh,” Gordon screamed as he flew backwards and landed on his butt with a bone rattling bump.

“Who’s next?” she asked, beckoning us forward.

Alan rubbed his butt in remembered pain and shook his head.

Kayo looked at Scott.

“Nope, I’m secure enough in my masculinity to know that it's not a good idea to go up against you.”

“John?” 

“Erm, let me think...no.”

Virgil was on the upper level, headphones on, totally in the zone while he painted and we all knew that nothing would get him to move bar an emergency call and that wasn't likely to happen any time soon.

She looked at me.

“Nope, don’t even think about it. I don’t know anything about your fancy moves, I’m no karate kid.”

“You don't know any self defence at all?” Scott asked.

I shrugged. “Well, I know enough to protect myself in a packed bar, does that count?”

Apparently it didn't, because less than ten minutes later I had been wrestled into my workout gear and was standing on the mats in the gym.

“I don't have a good feeling about this,” John muttered to Scott.

“Nonsense, she needs to learn, it’s important she can defend herself if the need arises. Do you want her getting hurt because she doesn't know how to take down an assailant?”

“Of course not, but it’s her.”

“True.”  
“I can hear you both, you know!”

“Busted,” Scott whispered to John, who sighed, knowing he was very likely to get yelled at for that later. And he would be right.

“Don’t listen to them, don’t let them put you off, you can do this,” Kayo encouraged me. “You can’t be that bad, you must know something. You said you could defend yourself in a packed bar, so lets start there, show me your moves.”

“I don’t really have a set of moves, I kinda just make it up on the fly,” I admitted, ignoring Scott's snort of amusement and John’s groan of disbelief.

“We can work with that, on the fly is what we do best. Scott?”

“Yeah?”

“Attack her, grab her from behind.”

“I dont think so.”

“John, you do it then.”

“I value certain parts of my anatomy.”

“Gordon?”

“Sure, I’ll do it, what's the worst that could happen?”

John actually laughed at that, he knew never to annoy me.

“No, I don’t want to hurt anyone,” I said, backing away.

“You couldnt hurt me, don’t worry. I’m just gonna grab you and all you have to do is break my hold.”

“You sure?” I asked. “I fight dirty.”

“So do bad guys,” Kayo laughed.

“I can take it,” Gordon assured me.

“OK,” I shrugged and turned around for him to grab me.

“Just do what you would do in a crowded bar and someone grabbed you,” Scott instructed.

I nodded.

Gordon waited a few seconds and then grabbed me, one arm around my chest, another around my waist.

I didn't bother struggling, I leant closer.

“Hey, Sailor, oh, you’re strong. Are you single? Because I’ve got four kids at home that desperately need a daddy. You don’t have a fear of commitment do you? Because I feel like we could have something really special, you know? Do you feel it too? This special thing between us? Wanna get marrie-”

“I’m out!” Gordon dropped me like I was a hot potato.

I turned around, waiting for my praise.

Scott cracked up laughing, almost falling over, only his grip on John’s shoulder keeping him upright? 

“That’s what you do in a bar?” John asked in utter disbelief. “You’re never going out alone again.”

“What if your attacker isn't some creep in a bar, what if he’s following you home and jumps you in an alleyway?” Alan asked.

“Why would I be in an alleyway?”

“He could grab you and drag you in,” Scott answered, finally gaining control of himself and managing to stand on his own.

“Who’d want me?” I argued. “I’d open my mouth and he’d run away in fear.”

“Truth,” Gordon muttered.

“Grab her again,” Kayo ordered.

“Do I have to?”

“I’ll do it,” Scott sighed, stepping up to the bat.

“So no words, just fight? Anything goes?”

“Yep, fight like your life depends on it,” Kayo instructed.

“Sorry,” I told Scott in preparation for kicking his butt.

“Don’t be,” he scoffed. “Do your worst.”

I started walking.

“Oh, look at me, an innocent-” 

John snorted. I ignored him.

“-unarmed girl, all alone on this dark, dark street. It would be so terrible if someone was to grab me right about now...”

Scott struck, looping his arm around my neck and another around my waist. 

I went limp and he fumbled to catch me, seizing the opportunity I lifted my foot and stamped down on his toes.

“Oww, dammit!” 

Not giving a second I slammed my elbow into his stomach and jumped, smacking the top of my head into his chin. When he let go to grab his chin I spun round and went for his chest, grabbing and twisting.

“She went for the nipple cripple!” Alan screamed in delight as Scott screamed in pain.

I let go and dragged him into a hug. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, you told me to fight!”

Scott accepted the hug, still whimpering pathetically.

“I said I was sorry, you know I love you!” I stroked his head getting a handful of gel which I sneakily wiped on his shirt when I patted his back.

“At least she kept it above waist height,” John commented.

“Well, that was…” Kayo started.

I waited. 

“Unorthodox and creative, but a woman wouldn't fight like that. Care to take me on?”

“Sure,” I shrugged. Nothing like taking down the big bro to give you a little confidence..

“Show me how you’d take on a female attacker.”

“Give me a second!” I stuck my hand in John’s pocket and retrieved the hairband I kept there for emergencies and tied my hair back.

“OK, I’m ready. Come at me!”

Kayo launched at me and I was immediately on the defensive. I head back, hands up, nails like claws.

“What are you doing?” Gordon asked.

“Cat fight, baby!”

“Cat fight?” Alan whispered to John who shrugged.

“Your hair looks awful today and those pants make your butt look huge!” I yelled at her.

“What?” she paused before aiming a punch my way but I screamed in her face and ducked, making her jump.

“Those boots give you cankles!” I kicked her in the shin and she yelped, hopping on one foot for a second, rubbing her leg.

I scrambled to my feet and grabbed her by the ponytail, yanking hard. 

“Get off!” she yelled trying to spin out of my grip. 

I let go and literally kicked her butt. I never go for the back, go for the butt, they never expect it. The sole of my foot hit her square on the cheeks and she stumbled in shock. That was my cue. I leapt on her back, screaming my best Xena impression, throwing all my weight on her, riding her down to the floor. I wound her hair around my fist and leaning all my weight on her shoulders, I pinned her down. 

“That is not how bad guys fight!” she yelled, squirming.

“No, it's how London girls fight. I take it you’ve never been in a drunken cat fight with someone who thinks you stole her lipstick? You’re just lucky I didn't unleash my claws and go for the eyes, or smash your face into the floor.”

I got up off her back and helped her up.

“That was dirty,” she scowled at me. “I do not have cankles.”

“I did warn you all.”

“What are cankles?” John asked Alan, who shrugged.

“You don’t have a big butt either,” I promised her. “I was just trash talking.”

“Can you girls do that again?” Gordon asked, grinning at us. “Maybe have a pillow fight too?”

Kayo and I didnt dignify that with an answer.

“I think it’s time we teach you some basics,” John insisted.

“You still don’t believe I can take care of myself?” I huffed, folding my arms.

“Oh we know you can, but just in case you aren't attacking drunk people-”

“Hey! They always attack me first!”

“You still need to learn some real self defense,” Scott finished for him.

“Real self defence? How are your moobs, my man?”

“Oww, you’re mean when you fight,” Gordon accused.

“I...I do not have moobs!” he turned away, anxiously smoothing his hand over his pecs, just to be sure.

“Yeah, OK supermodel, you’re out of here,” Kayo ordered. “You guys too. We’re gonna start running through some basics. So, unless you want to be the attacker again, I suggest you get going.”

They got gone.

It was easier without them there and Kayo is actually a really good teacher. One day I might even be able to fight off a bad guy without resorting for a crotch shot. A girl can dream.


	68. Day 68

Day 68 of isolation on Tracy Island.

“Oi,” I grumbled as something prickled my shoulder. “What the heck are you doing?

John ignored me and continued to rub his chin against my shoulder like a cat scent marking, not bothering to put down the book he was reading. I watched with mild interest for a few moments as he rolled his face all over me, his scratchy stubble rasping at my skin.

“Are you done yet?”

“No.” He started again.

“Dude, I’m not a scratching post.”

“I know,” he continued as if I hadn’t said a thing.

“And yet you're not stopping. I’m getting stubble rash over here.”

“Oh, so now you’re complaining?” 

Scott snorted out a laugh but didn't get involved.

“You still didn't answer my question of why.”

“I’m itchy.” He stopped his sandpaper attack and went back to his book, although he continued to periodically rub his cheek against his own shoulder or mine as the morning wore on. 

What the heck was going on with him? Normally he hated to feel stubbly, shaving twice a day when possible to avoid it. I know that lockdown has made the whole world a little lazy but if it was bothering him, then surely it was time to pick up the slack on the grooming front?

A movement to my left caught my eye as Scott scratched absently at his neck. Huh, he was looking a little darker on the chin too. I glanced around at the others and for the first time I noticed that they were all doing the same thing. It was like watching a pack of stray dogs, all scratching at themselves like they were fighting fleas. Gordon was sporting about a centimeter of golden stubble, while Virgil had so much darkness dusting his chin and cheeks that I had no idea why I hadn't noticed it before. I was putting it down to lockdown blindness, where you see someone every day with no break and so they just all blend in together and you don't even really notice them any more.

“OK, something’s going on with you lot, why are you all looking like castaways?”

They all looked at each other exchanging shifty glances.

“We might be having a beard growing contest,” Virgil admitted.

“How the heck did that come about? Do you guys turn everything into a competition?”

“Pretty much,” Scott shrugged, scratching at his chin. He found his efforts to be unsatisfactory and stole my hand to do the job, since I have longer nails.

“It was my idea,” Gordon told me.

“Why am I not surprised?”

"I’ve always liked the idea of growing a beard, but none of us could because we have to have a smooth seal with our masks and beards could hinder that.”

“Seems legit,” I answered. “So I guess you’re all in the itchy stage?” Understatement of the year there, hun, your arm is currently being manhandled to provide itch relief.

They all nodded miserably, even Alan.

“Well I'm not prepared to sit around for the next however many weeks while you scratch at yourselves, more than usual that is. Or to do it for you. Have any of you even looked up anything about this?”

“It’s growing a beard, not rocket science,” Gordon drawled like he was explaining two plus two. “You just stop shaving and let it grow.”

“Oh you innocent boy, how naive you are.” I grabbed my phone and got to googling.

“The itching should stop in the next week or so and then you’ll have a few weeks of niceness before the itchy starts again. 

They all groaned, knowing that they were in for a rough time.

“It’s itchy because you’re shedding skin. You need to shampoo and moisturise,” I advised, sharing my findings.

“Ewww,” Alan made a face.

“Let me guess, none of you have moisturiser or anything remotely related to grooming that isn’t hair gel?”

They shook their heads. Virgil scratched his cheek pathetically.

“Urghh, fine I’ll share. Anything to stop you all complaining and using my body parts as a scratching post.”

I toddled off to the bedroom and came back with a selection of products that I thought might help. I had only been gone for ten minutes but in that time each of them had moved to a different spot on the couches and they were still scratching. 

Virgil was using a pencil to rub at his cheek, Gordon was using my hairbrush to scrub his chin, Scott was using the letter opener from Jeff’s desk , John was using the corner of his book and Alan...well he was just fine really but he didn't seem to even have any growth.

I snatched my hairbrush off Gordon

“Please don’t tell me that in the few minutes I was gone you lot ended up in a competition to see who could scratch themselves in the weirdest way?” I was joking, but the fact that they never denied it leads me to believe that they might have been doing just that.

The next half hour was like an Avon party, all of them fighting over the lotions and potions I had scavenged. They were typical men, squirting out a massive handful and slapping it onto their faces and rubbing it in like they were trying to scrub carbon deposits of Two’s hull.

“Stop!” I yelled, unable to take much more of watching them abuse their own faces. I had to step in. Men just don’t know how to be delicate. “Lawd you boys need help.”

“You say that every day for one thing or another,” Virgil pointed out.

“Not my fault you’re all dumb and need a baby sitter.” If you could see them you’d know I was right, picture a bunch of toddlers who got into their mums bathroom cabinet and decided to make a cake in the sink and then smear it on themselves. Yep, that's about it.

“There’s a process, you can’t just slap on some moisturiser and hope for the best. Someone get me a bowl of warm water and a towel.”

If you’d have asked me earlier what I thought I’d be doing today, I definitely wouldn't have said I’d be giving these idiots facials and teaching them how to actually care for their skin. But I've learnt that in International Rescue no day is ever the same and you have to roll with the punches and fly by the seat of your pants. Just take every obstacle in your stride and adapt to the circumstances. Apparently the same can be said for the things that happen during lockdown.

For once in his life John wasn’t complaining that I was using him as a guinea pig as he lay with his head in my lap while I talked them through how to properly wash their faces with a sensitive foaming cleanser, how to stimulate and exfoliate the skin with a gentle silicone scrubbie (apparently nails on an itchy chin are purr inducingly good) and how to rub in moisturiser with gentle circular strokes rather than trying to scrub off their eyebrows.

They all managed to complete their facials with a reasonable degree of competence. They did need some help and additional instruction, although I’m fairly convinced they just wanted to be pampered too, and for the rest of the morning they were itch free and a lot happier. I’ve got a feeling that the next week or so is going to be an absolute nightmare. That and I’m not going to have anything left in the bathroom cabinet by the end of this little competition of theirs. They owe me.

I made them all sit together and took some pictures for the family album, that and as progress shots. This is going to be something we'll definitely want to look back on.


	69. Day 69

Day 69 of Isolation on Tracy Island.

Have you ever heard that saying, don't do a flat pack project with someone you love? Yep, well apparently the Tracy boys hadn't. Let me explain.

Virgil and I went out to gather the weekly supplies of essentials, including beard oil, gentle bear shampoo, moisturizer and other things they suddenly deemed essential now that they were hairy and to pick up any orders that had been delivered and were waiting for us.

As usual we made quick work of the essentials shopping, flying through the list as we flew through the aisles, in and out in under an hour, which just goes to show how fast you can get things done when you don’t have Grandma or Gordon with you.

We stopped off at the storage unit on the way home, and once again it was like a magical mystery as to just what might be in there this week. The packages that appeared in there depended on many things, how busy we had been, how bored we were, how much time we had on our hands, which shopping hole I’d fallen into, the reasons were many and varied.

This time we had a number of boxes addressed to Brains, seven weighted hula hoops (because yes, the boys had talked me into agreeing to teach them as well as Kayo) a few other boxes of things that had been ordered and two large, very heavy crates addressed to Gordon. Virgil had to strap on his exo-suit just to get them loaded into Two’s pod. 

“What do you think he’s ordered?” I asked as we headed back home.

“It’s Gordon, it could literally be anything, I gave up guessing what he was up to when he was five.”

“That instills me with such confidence, thank you for that.”

“You expected me to lie?”

“No, I expected you to evade the truth for comfort purposes.”

“Next time, ask Scott.”

We left Gordon’s crates in the hanger and went to grab some lunch, and by grab lunch I mean I stole half of John’s sandwich and poured a cup of coffee, that would do, we may have snacked on Doritos on the way home.

“Gordo, you’ve got two crates down in the hanger,” Virgil told him as he took my coffee cup. 

“Yesss!” Gordon ran off without another word.

“Is nothing safe in this house?” I asked, pouring another cup of coffee for myself.

“You just took my sandwich,” John pointed out. 

“Yeah, but that’s different.”

“”How?”

“Because what’s mine is yours and yours is mine, it’s how life works.”

“I don’t think that counts with food.”

“Sure it does, also you have a package,” I slid it over. “Did you buy me something nice?”

“If a new GPU for the gaming computer I’m building for Alan is nice for you, then sure.”

I made a face. “No, it’s fine, he can have it.”

“Generous of you,” he replied, stealing my coffee.

***

Gordon hadn’t returned almost an hour later after we finished our leisurely lunch, so in our infinite wisdom, we decided to track him down and see if he needed any help. It turned out he needed way more than we had expected.

“Gordon, what the heck?” Virgil stared in disbelief, taking in the mass of parts that were spread all over the floor of the hanger. Gordon was sitting in the middle of them, looking like he’d lost the will to live.

“Virgil, thank God, you have to help me,” he begged.

“What do you even have here?” John asked, looking around in disbelief.

“It’s supposed to be a golf cart.” 

“A golf cart?” I asked, not sure I’d actually heard him properly. The island had a lot of things but a golf course was not one of them. “Why would you need a golf cart?”

“Two.”

“Bless you.”

“No, two, as in I have two.”

“Two of them? What are you going to do with two golf carts?” I had to ask.

John, being the sensible one, had located the instructions still inside the crate and had been studying them.

“Correction, what are you going to do with two old golf carts from 2006?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out. So, will you help me?”

We should never have said yes. That was our first mistake.

Two hours later, Alan, Scott and Brains had joined us and I wasn't talking to any of them because they were just ridiculous. 

“How can we not figure out how to put this together?” Gordon groaned. “We have two engineers and an electronics wizard and the rest of us aren't dumb either, yet we still can’t get past this?”

“How long have they been doing this?” Kayo asked me. We were perched on the discarded crate and happily sipping OJ. 

“Coming up to three hours now I think.”

“I bet we could do it quicker than them,” she whispered.

“Oh, undoubtedly. All they have done is argue. John is trying to follow the instructions but Brains is trying to improve them.”

She snorted.

“Virgil is trying to go through it methodically and lay out all the pieces, but Alan keeps picking them up and asking John what they are, making him look them up and then putting them back in the wrong place.”

“Typical.”

“And Scott and Gordon are arguing because Scott is trying to direct everyone and Gordon is insisting that it’s his golf cart and it should be his way.”

“I expected nothing less. So, how about it, should we show them how it’s done?”

“Damn straight.”

We dragged the frame out of the crate and pushed it out of the way and then retrieved everything else inside.

“What are you two doing with my golf cart?” Gordon asked.

“We’re putting it together for you,” Kayo answered.

“Yeah right,” he laughed. 

“Do you not think we’re capable of putting together a little golf cart?” I asked, narrowing my eyes dangerously.

“I wouldn't answer that if I was you,” Scott advised. But as ever Gordon was in an argumentative mood.

“I wouldn't say incapable, but I think you’ll be there for the next week.”

“I bet we can get it done quicker than you idiots can,” Kayo challenged.

“You’re on,” Gordon stood up to shake both our hands.

It was one of those DIY golf cart kits so it should have been easy enough for the geniuses in this family but, like with most things when all five of them were involved, it had not gone quite to plan.

We located the instructions and sat down to read them and plan out how we were going to tackle it.

“Ground up I think is best,” I suggested.

“Makes sense,” she agreed.

“Set everything out so we know what we have and put it in sections?”

“Yep, that’ll work.”

We spent half an hour hauling everything out of the crate and laying it out. 

“Are you girls done prettying up the place?” Gordon called over to us. 

We didn't rise to the bait, they were still arguing over which was the front or the back of the seat.

We found the engine mount and lifted it into place, I helped a bit but honestly Kayo is as strong as an ox, she hides a lot of power in her slender frame and she could have probably lifted it on her own. We screwed it into place and then got to work putting together the wiring loom.

The wiring was actually pretty simple, the loom came as a mostly complete unit and all we had to do was make sure we left enough…

“That wire is too short! It doesn't reach. Who had that job?”

“Wiring is down to John!”

“Don’t blame me! I told you that you needed to actually measure it and not just do it by eye!”

“It was still your job!”

OK I take it back, apparently the wiring wasn't simple for everyone.

The rear suspension was a little harder, but between us we managed to figure it out, getting the spindles and lifting blocks to stay in their right places was a bit of a challenge, but we’re girls and we’re used to getting stubborn things to behave and stay where they are put and soon powered through.

We could hear muttering coming from the boys' side of the hanger, and we saw them peeking over at us a little more often than they had before. 

“Go get us a drink and some snacks and see if they want anything,” Kayo suggested. I nodded and got up.

“Want a drink, Kay?”

“Sure, can you grab me one of those smoothie bottles?”

“Sure, no worries.” I wandered past the boys on my way out.

“Do you guys want anything from the kitchen?”

“No, we’re good,” Gordon insisted.

“Can you get me a smoothie too?” John asked.

“Sure, babe.”

“Why did you just do that?” Gordon hissed at John.

“Because I'm thirsty?”

“It’s a plot to spy on us and see what we're doing so they can copy us!”

I snorted. “Dude, we wouldnt be stupid enough to copy you guys.”

“Insults now?” Virgil laughed.

“Hey, if the blue pointy cap fits…” I escaped before they could yell at me any more.

I found Grandma in the kitchen, cremating a number of what I think were once chickens, I didn't look too closely.

“Where is everyone?”

“Hangers,” I answered and began to explain.

I came back with drinks and Grandma, who had wanted to join the winning team. I gave John his smoothie and left the rest a few bottles of water and went back to help Kayo with the axel, which she was trying to wrestle into place on her own. I’ll be honest, she was doing most of it herself, but we were having fun, we were chatting and laughing and ignoring the boys, which just annoyed them even more.

With the addition of Grandma for logistics we were steaming through.

With the help of a dolly and a discarded arm of a broken exo-suit we slid the engine into place and screwed it down. It was pretty simple, everything fitted in quite easily and with our more modern tools we had very little trouble.

With the engine fitted we got to work on the rear of the cart, checking the amount of tyre clearance we would need and making sure they spun freely and that the shock absorbers were situated correctly before we tightened everything down.

We could really see this thing coming together. The boys were still arguing like they were on Jerry Springer, yelling at each other, blaming each other for things they either had or hadn't done, and threatening to break various body parts.

“Right girls,” Grandma started one of her famous pep talks as we started to flag. It was late, we were all hungry and sleep was calling us. “You’re on the home stretch now. Get those breaks in, then it’s just the chassis. I’ll sort the wiring in the handle bars. Once that's done it's the finishing touches, seat, lights and horn. Then you can sleep.”

We heard the boys start to mutter under their breath, all huddled together like they were in the playoffs and only had thirty seconds left on the clock. Maybe Grandma should’ve lowered her voice...

“Look at theirs, how did they do that?”

“We’re never getting to bed tonight, are we?”

“Alan is already asleep.”

“Come on, we can’t give up now, guys, we got this.”

“Girls, we can do this. I believe in us,” Grandma encouraged drawing our attention back to her and we nodded, the last thing we’d ever want to do would be let her down.

Following her instructions we got on with the breaks, working together quite well. I didn’t know that much about machinery or anything really, but I can research my butt off and read instructions perfectly. Everyone should read the instructions, I honestly don't know why men seem to be so incapable of it.

Grandma was as good as her word, she had the wires poked through the handles and connected up before we had the chassis on. We fitted the handlebars and the chassis in place and tightened everything up.

We got the seat on while Grandma got the lights connected up and put the bulbs in. The horn was the last thing. 

We put the battery on charge, tucked our baby into bed and called it a night.

John slumped his way into the kitchen with Virgil about four in the morning. We’d gone to bed around half two after throwing some pizzas in the oven and having ourselves a little past midnight feast, leaving a few for the boys. I’d gone to bed but couldn't sleep, having eaten late and gone past my tiredness barrier. Deciding that a hot chocolate sounded amazing I’d gotten up again.

The boys were almost dead on their feet. They had taken Alan to bed and tried to bully Scott and Gordon into moving but both had refused to quit, as had Brains, who was apparently over engineering everything and making things so much harder. I don't know how boys manage to make everything so difficult and complicate the simplest of things.

I took pity on them both and made them a hot drink too and warmed up some pizza, making sure they had eaten before I marched them to bed.

“How bad was it?” I asked John after we’d brushed our teeth.

“How bad do you think?”

“Parker trying to explain filling FAB 0’s gas tank to Alan, bad?”

“Times that by ten,” he flopped face first onto the bed and refused to move again. 

I’ve still got no clue what Gordon wants with two vintage golf carts, but I guess we’ll find out soon. At least I know one will be properly put together.


	70. Day 70

Day 70 of Isolation on Tracy Island.

We all slept in late this morning, well, those of us that actually got to bed did, when we finally got up around lunch time we found Gordon and Scott passed out on the couches and Brains asleep at the kitchen table with a cold cup of coffee still clutched in his hand like a teddy bear.

I sent John, Virg, Grandma, Kayo and Jeff out to the pool and sorted breakfast myself, being careful not to wake the sleeping beauties. 

Once breakfast was done we quietly made our way down to the hangar to see what progress the boys had made over night and to check that no sabotage had happened to the girl golf while we were sleeping.

It looked like the boys had managed to finish it at some point, or as close to, but we still had no idea why Gordon had wanted them or what he was planning on doing with them. We all drifted off to our own activities. I had the sudden and undeniable urge to bake miniature cupcakes and since Brains had apparently awoken and wandered off at some point, I had free use of the kitchen. I left them on the side for anyone who wanted to eat them and tracked John down to indulge in my favorite pastime, sitting really close to him and just staring at him until he gives up trying to concentrate on whatever he's doing to pay attention to me.

We were chilling out in the reading nook upstairs, watching Virgil finish his painting while I read out funny isolation tweets when Gordon appeared in the lounge. 

“Hey everyone, it’s ready!” he yelled at the top of his lungs, waking Scott who flailed and rolled off the couch in shock.

“What’s ready?” he grumbled, rubbing his elbow where it had whacked the floor.

“The race course!”

His meaning dawned on us all at the same second and we groaned.

***

Gordon had us all assemble outside Two’s cliff hangar entrance where he’d pushed the two golf carts out and had them lined up ready.

“Girls vs boys?” Kayo and I confirmed.

“Yep, one driver, one co-pilot, drag race down the runway, sharp left hand turn down that ramp , onto the beach for an anything goes, flat out race. First one around the island via the beach wins,” Gordon announced much to my horror.

“Hang on a second,”I interrupted him. “I don’t trust you guys, we didn't modify ours at all but we know you were all trying to ‘improve’ yours.”

Gordon and Brains looked a little shifty but it was Scott that finally admitted the truth.

“We gave up on any improvements and started again and followed the instructions.”

I bit my lip, trying not to laugh but Kayo wasn't as generous and laughed in their faces. It took her a few minutes to calm down enough to straighten up and agree to their terms.

“You can drive,” I told her. “I’m not good with new things.” I heard John snort because he remembered having to teach me to drive my car after Brains tricked it out. Never again.

“Yeah, I wouldn't have let you anyway,” she told me. At least we knew where we stood.

Gordon wanted to drive since it was his idea with Scott as his co-pilot since Virgil had been voted as too heavy that he might unbalance the cart. Poor chonky thing.

We suited up with helmets and elbow and knee pads, the only safety gear we needed apparently, I would have preferred a full armoured body suit but these lot are dare devils and care nothing for safety beyond the basics. I swear, I once heard Scott quote ‘protect your melon, anything else is fine’.

I sent up a prayer to anyone that might actually be dumb enough to listen that they spare me from a broken neck by idiot family and got in beside Kayo. Apparently golf carts do not come with seat belts because obviously YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO RACE THEM!

“Hold on tight,” she grinned like an idiot, clearly loving life at that moment. 

“Five! Four! Three! Two! One!” Jeff counted down and then Grandma blew a whistle. We were off!

Kayo slammed her foot down on the accelerator and we shot forward at a whopping five mph, slowly climbing to ten.

We were quickly running out of runway but she showed no sign of slowing down for the turn that was coming up.

“Kay...maybe you should sl-”

“LEAN!” she yelled and I did as I was told, throwing my weight and upper body sideways with her. We lifted up on two wheels and slid onto the ramp. I screamed. Why must she terrify me like this? We had only just started! I gripped on to the frame for dear life and tried not to scream again as we rocketed down the ramp with the boys close to our bumper and clattered onto the sand.

Thankfully the sand slowled us down a little and I was able to catch my breath, hopefully not to fill my lungs so I could scream in terror again.

She had a careless way of driving, it was like she saw every bump, rock and patch of seaweed as a personal challenge, driving at them like she was in a video game and expecting me to grab coins along the way. Well I can tell you now, I wasn't letting go until this was all over.

I heard Gordon and Scott whooping like loons , almost level beside us. I risked a glance over and they were radiating pure crazy, but in a good way, clearly enjoying themselves and having a fabulous time. Weirdos. Only this lot could enjoy terrifying near death experiences as much. What happened to quiet days at home? What happened to sanity? 

“Lockdown happened,” Kayo answered. Huh, guess I said that out loud.

She screeched us around another corner, taking one hand off the handle bars to grab my arm and haul me sideways when I didn't instinctively know to move. 

“You could pay attention,” she huffed. 

“I’m trying not to watch my life flashing before my eyes,” I snapped back, but that just made her laugh. That’s one thing I love about her, we can snipe at each other and get mouthy but we never take it seriously. 

I did pay a little attention though, enough to see the boys hit what they thought was a sand dune and turned out to be a sand covered rock. Their cart came to a bone crunching halt and they both catapulted out.

“Wait, they might be hurt,” I yelled but she didn't even look back.

“Losers, they’ll be fine.”

She was right, they got straight back up, hauled the cart upright and got right back in, tearing off after us. They were zooming on the wonk as it looked like one of their front wheels was buckled and pointing the wrong way but at least they were moving. Now I didnt feel so bad about the fact that we were about to kick their butts.

We rounded another curve, managing three wheels this time which was a definite improvement. She was enjoying herself far too much, laughing like a Disney villain as she flung the poor cart around like she was in a race car.

We were rocking along at a speedy 12 mph when our wheel caught on some seaweed which wrapped around it and locked it up tight. We jumped out and were still yanking it free when the boys zoomed past us, yelling out taunting insults . 

Kayo snatched up the last of the weed and threw it away, already back in the cart.

“Hurry up!” she hollered and I’d barely got one buttcheek on the seat before she was off. I flailed and managed to hang on to the frame and plant myself more firmly.

We sped after them and managed to catch up, hindered as they were by their buckled wheel and were neck and neck as we curved around the last bend, bumped over another sand dune and took an unscheduled dip in the sea, the water spraying up as we noooomed along but nothing was going to stop us now! 

The boys were about a foot ahead of us and trying for that last burst of speed on the home stretch, the second ramp that would take us back onto the runway was in sight. We both bumped up on to it at the same time and felt it wobble. We had two choices, freeze or go faster, apparently freezing is not in the International Rescue vocabulary as both Gordon and Kayo slammed their feet down and squeezed another 2 mph out of the struggling engines. 

We got up the ramp, crashing into each other as we tried to turn at the same time. There was a scuffle where Kayo yelled at me to kick them and stupidly I did actually try, all that did was give Scott a chance to lean over, grab my foot and wiggle it while I screamed.

We got straight and untangled and I hauled myself back into the seat for what felt like the hundredth time in ten minutes as we hit the home stretch, barrelling down the runway. Our audience dived out of the way as we screeched to a halt.

“Who won?” Gordon demanded to know.

“Oh, sorry, were we supposed to be judging this?” Jeff asked. “We weren’t paying attention.”

The boys and Kayo groaned, demanding a rematch. No way was I going through all that again so I gave up my seat to Virgil, I was done with the entire thing. All I wanted was a cup of coffee and a lie down. These guys would be the death of me.


	71. Day 71

Day 71 of Isolation on Tracy Island.

“Hey, Grandma, you OK?” I asked as I walked into the kitchen, finding her slumped at the table, her chin propped up on her hand, miserably swiping through pages on her tablet.

“Yes,” she sighed.

“That didn’t sound convincing,” I said gently, sitting down opposite her. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, not really. I’m just getting a little tired of all of this lockdown business.”

“I think we all are,” I sighed in agreement.

“I know I should be grateful that we have such a nice place to spend it, but I just want a chance to see more than these four walls, to go out somewhere with the family, maybe for dinner, you know? Somewhere nice where I don’t have to cook and can relax a bit.”

I didn't mention that it would be nice for all of us if she didn't feel the need to cook.

“I know, I just need to stop complaining and get on with it,” she huffed, clearly annoyed with herself as she got up to fetch another cup of coffee.

"Don't be silly, you're allowed to have a little moan now and then, it makes you human. The boys have been complaining non stop since this started. We're all restless and moody." 

"There are people a lot worse off than us," she sniffed. "We aren't struggling, we live on a paradise island that many would kill to even spend a day on. We should count our blessings."

"Yeah, we should," I agreed softly, but my mind was whirling. There had to be something we could do to make her feel better, she did so much for us all and I didnt like to see her this way. It wasn't like I could conjure up a restaurant right here… or could I? Not a full restaurant, but maybe a nice meal for her, a chance to dress up and have a good night? That I could do. I pulled out my phone and sent a group text to everyone but Grandma, invoking the summoning that no one was allowed to ignore. “Council of war!”

***

We all assembled in the lounge, leaving Grandma to bang around in the kitchen in a foul mood.

“Guys, I have a plan,” I announced.

They all groaned.

“No! Be nice! Seriously, this is a good plan, it’s important. Grandma is having a bad day, she’s feeling a bit restless and down right now. She said that what she really wants is to be able to go out somewhere for a nice family meal.”

“She’s always loved going to nice places,” Jeff agreed.

“That’ll be a little hard right now unless she wants to sit in a street somewhere with a burger,” Scott said, scratching his chin vigorously. Yes, the beard beginnings were still there and apparently still annoying them.

“ I don’t think that's quite what she had in mind,” Virgil laughed.

“So, here’s my plan," I continued before they could go off on one of their tangents. "I think we should make her favourite dishes and then all dress up nicely, I’m talking suited and booted, eat in the dining room and be all fancy. But keep it a secret for her.”

They didn't look too convinced at first, but slowly they saw the merit of my brilliant idea.

“If we handle the cooking and the table, can you and Kayo distract Grandma for the afternoon?” Virgil asked.

“Sure, I’m sure we can think of something, but are you sure we can trust you all to cook?”

John rolled his eyes. “We are perfectly capable of cooking for ourselves, you know, we are grown men.”

Now it was my turn to not believe what I was hearing.

“Seriously, you can trust us,” Alan promised me.

“Really? Usually you all need wrangling just to get through the day. You honestly think you can do this without arguing?”

“It’s for Grandma,” Gordon shrugged. “We’ll do it for her.”

That was a statement I couldn't argue, they would do anything for her.

“OK. Kay, this is going to be tough on both of us, but we’re gonna have to be brave.”

“Why?” she asked, immediately suspicious.

“Because we’re going to let her dress us up.”

***

Leaving the boys with recipes and strict instructions to behave and follow the plan to the letter, we tracked down Grandma.

“Grandma, wanna join us? We’re having a girly pampering day,” I asked.

“Both of you?” she clearly didn't believe that Kayo had been involved with the planning of said day. Time for plan B.

“Kayo lost a bet to me, and I said that, in payment, she has to allow me to put makeup on her and make her wear a pretty dress.” There, that sounded more believable, the glare Kayo was throwing in my direction certainly went a long way towards making it look more convincing.

“To make it fairer I said I’d dress up to, want to help?”

“I get to dress you two up?”

Kayo and I glanced at each other, in my case for moral support and strength, in hers to shoot me another death glare that promised retribution.

“Sure, as long as you dress up too, we’ll make an afternoon of it and have fun.” I nudged Kayo.

“Yeah, great fun,” she agreed. “So, are you in?”

“Heck yeah I’m in. When do we start?”

I spotted Scott peeking around the door and making shooing gestures at me.

“How about now?”

“Now? But I’m not done cooking yet.”

“Don’t worry about that now, there’s stuff in the freezer, I’m sure we can throw something in later,” I soothed.

“Alright, that sounds like a solid plan, let's do it!”

***

“Kay, hold still!”

“You just poked me in the eye with a tiny spindly brush covered in black gunk and you’re telling me to hold still? What, so you can blind me a second time?”

“It’s mascara, you sarcastic moo, and it’s your own fault you got poked. If you kept still and only blinked when I told you to it wouldn't have happened.”

“You can’t tell me how to blink.”

I gave her a look that said I’d smack her the second her back was turned. She, as always, was unphased.

“I saw what you did to Scott, you’re not making me look like a clown are you?”

“Lies!” I hissed. “I did no such thing! He looked beautiful, his eyes were blended to perfection and his cheekbones could have cut glass. It was Gordon that looked like he’d been drinking while playing with paint and that was down to Virgil, not me.”

“You both look beautiful,” Grandma smiled. “This is what I missed out on having only boys to look after, doing girls hair.” She continued to manhandle Kayo’s hair, brushing out her perpetual pony tail and attempting to twist it up at the back of her head into some kind of chignon that honestly was looking more like a deflated balloon had mated with a dead squirrel. “Why won’t this thing stay put?”

“I’ll fix it in a minute,” I promised as I brushed a little bronzer over the apples of Kayo’s cheeks, giving her already gorgeous tawny skin a little more depth. She had the nicest skin to work on, seeming to be unhindered by even the slightest of pores or blemishes, just perfect, the cow. Here’s me, I look at sugar or fat and I put on six pounds and have a breakout.

We had started by letting her do her own makeup while following my instructions as I did mine but Kayo is not the most delicate of creatures and when I spotted her stabbing a brush into the eyeshadow pallet, swirling it around like she was casting a Wingardium Leviosa and proceeding to scrub the colour (a startling shade of neon green) over her eyelid I’d called time. I ordered her to wash it all off and had taken over.

She didn't actually need much makeup, a little sweep of a dusky rose and darker brown over her eyelids, mascara to make her already long eyelashes stand out, a subtle dusting of bronzer, some loose powder to set it all and some burgundy lipstick and she was done. I took a lot more work to look that good.

Grandma had taken my makeup kit and helped herself, going for the classic blue eyeshadow, bright pink cheeks and vibrant red lips that had last been popular in the 1980’s. It didn't flatter her in the slightest but she was having a great time telling us all about how she had pictures of her mother with that look and she had thought that she looked so beautiful that she hadn't been able to resist trying it out. I couldn't talk, my habitual mashup of goth punk rocker with a side of geek wasn't exactly in keeping with the rest of the world either.

We dug through our wardrobes and selected possible outfits that we thought would do and held a mini fashion parade, allowing Grandma to make the final choices for what we would wear. Kayo’s evening wear selections seemed to mostly be made up of jumpsuits and Grandma eventually settled on one in black that had a sari style drape going over one shoulder that was accented in gold. I immediately made Kayo sit back down so I could accent her eyes with a little gold glitter eyeshadow powder to match.

Grandma seemed to be incapable of purchasing anything that wasn't purple, not that I could talk, it was one of my favorite colours too. She had chosen a nice, if slightly boxy looking, dress that stopped below the knee, with a rounded neck and no sleeves. She borrowed a black lace wrap from me and called it good. 

Her hair had been growing out too and was a little too long to stay in its trademark flicked up end curls, so she allowed me to whip out the curling wand and give her a few waves that bounced happily around her face. 

I fixed Kayo’s hair disaster at the same time, twisting it up from the nape of her neck, pinning it in place and then curling the ends which I’d left loose.

“You both look amazing, now wasn’t this fun?”

Kayo mumbled something that didn't sound quite like a yes but wasn't entirely negative either. 

“Just for fun, shall we keep this on for dinner and surprise the boys?” I asked innocently.

Grandma grinned. “Oh yes, that would be great. You girls have really cheered me up today. We might not be going out for a nice meal, but this has been a close second.”

“When all this is over we’ll have a night out in London, we’ll drag the boys along, it’ll be great,” I promised as we made our way down to the kitchen.

“I thought you said the boys were handling dinner tonight?” she accused, looking at the table, currently bare of its usually after dinner debris of dirty plates and charred cooking dishes.

“Maybe they haven't started yet?” Kayo suggested.

“You have so little faith in us,” Scott announced from the doorway where he, Jeff and John stood. They had actually scrubbed up well, each foregoing their usual casual wear for a nice shirt -Scott and Jeff's were both white while John had chosen a midnight blue one- ties and smart trousers (we live on an island, it’s far too hot for jackets unless they wanted to sweat all night). they had even made an effort to try to neaten up their unruly hair. Their chins were still a disaster, the scruffy buggers, but at least they tried, it seemed that even a posh dinner wasn't a good enough reason to give up on an active competition.

“What are you boys up to?” Grandma asked suspiciously.

“We came to escort our guest of honour,” Jeff answered, offering her his arm and leading the way to the dining room.

The other boys looked just as well turned out, even Brains with his tufty regrowth on his head had dressed for the occasion, although his suit was a complete eyesore, a powder blue monstrosity with a ruffled shirt that looked as up to date as Grandma’s makeup, but bless him he tried.

Gordon was still wearing a hawaian print top, but it was a full shirt, with a real collar, and was tucked in to his trousers, which actually reached his ankles so I’d call that a win.

Alan was wearing a shirt that was just a little too large for him, obviously borrowed from one of the others but his trousers fit well. He had a properly knotted tie and looked so much older than he usually did, so smartly turned out, although he still managed to look adorable.

Virgil had on a mint green silk shirt and black suit trousers combo that should have made him look like a cheesy Vegas magician but he somehow managed to pull it off.

They had made the dining room look amazing, laying out the fancy china and real wine glasses, even lighting candles and piped through some soft classical music (I’m pretty sure I know who was responsible for that). The table held covered dishes that actually smelt edible and they had even hunted out some cloth napkins instead of the usual paper towel we used on a daily basis.

“You boys did all this?” Grandma gasped, seeing everything for the first time.

“We thought you could do with a night off from taking care of us,” Jeff told her, helping her into her chair.

“This all looks so nice and you boys look so handsome, although you'd look better without the face fuzz.”

“Small victories, Grandma, we got them to dress nice, we can’t ask for miracles,” I smiled.

She nodded, her eyes looking a little moist in the candle light but none of us dared to comment on it.

“We all thought you deserved some special treatment for looking after us all so well,” Virgil told her as he poured her a glass of wine and we took our seats.

Dinner was actually quite nice, it appeared that the boys had managed to cook without killing each other and follow the recipes, maybe finally realising that following instructions isn't always a bad thing had stuck with them.

They had stuck to simple but delicious dishes, a simple soup to start, followed by a nice italian style carbonara, garlic bread and crisp green salad, and apple pie with ice cream for dessert. Yeah, it probably wasn't something we’d have in a posh restaurant, but it had been made with love and I knew that that would mean more to her than anything.

Grandma was treated like the queen she was all night, being served first, her glass kept topped up and not allowed to lift a finger. 

We refused to let her help clean up, insisting that she retire outside with Jeff to enjoy the beautiful night. We joined them after we finished taking everything to the kitchen, loading the dishwashers and hand washing a few delicate items.

We finished the evening with some of Virgil’s fancy coffee while they all reminisced and told stories of other family dinners. 

She made sure to hug each and every one of us extra tight as she said goodnight, leaving us to finish the coffee and put ourselves to bed.

It had been a lot of work, but the smile on her face and the joy in her laughter had made it all worth it. That's what you have to do in times like these, make a special effort to look after those that look after you so selflessly, to show you care and that you appreciate them. These unusual times are hard on everyone, but we all know that if we stick together and do our best to think of others before we think of ourselves (something the International Rescue boys do everyday of their lives) then we can get through anything.


	72. Day 72

Day 72 of Isolation on Tracy Island.

After yesterday’s posh day we were all feeling the need to be sloppy and just slob around the house but unfortunately Jeff had other ideas.

“You kids are not going to spend another day laying around the house in your pyjamas, I refuse to allow it. I know that the chance of us getting a call out is remote, but we have to be professional, we can’t let our standards slip...are you listening to me?”

Alan was snoring on my shoulder, Gordon was playing a game on his phone, Virgil was lounging on Scott and John hadn't even looked up from his book. None of us were dressed. The three older boys were wearing nothing but pyjama bottoms, only Alan was wearing a T-shirt with his.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Jeff muttered, giving up and walking away, no doubt to call one of his buddies and complain about us. Again. 

I reached out a foot and nudged Gordon who was only wearing a pair of swim shorts. “Oi, Squidward, he wants us all to get dressed.” I couldn't talk, I was one of the people still in PJ bottoms (stolen) and a vest top and I had planned on staying that way all day too.

None of them made a move to get up, in fact Virgil stretched out further, draping his legs over his brother’s.

“Come on, guys, let's not annoy him too much today." I nudged Gordon again, I wasn't picking on him specifically, he was just the only one I could reach sandwiched between John and Alan as I was, I'd have to over stretch to reach the other two. 

"Stop kicking me! Fine, I'll get dressed, but I'm not making any effort with it," Gordon huffed. "In fact, I'm going to find the oldest, scruffiest things I own and I'm going to wear them all day." 

"That's actually a funny idea," Scott laughed, "he'd hate that, but you'd be doing exactly what he asked."

"Wanna do it too?" he asked. 

"Maybe. Virg?" 

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I suppose we could join in," Virgil agreed slowly. 

"Excellent! John, you in?" Gordon asked. 

"John?" Scott called when John, as usual, tuned Gordon out quite effectively. 

"Yeah?" John didn't look up. I always admire his ability to just be completely in the zone and ignore everything else. 

"Are you in?" Gordon asked him. 

"In where? When was I out?" 

"These numpties seem to think that the best response to your dad wanting us to get dressed is to wear the oldest, grungiest things they own. They want to know if you want to play too," I explained. 

"Oh," he scratched his chin as he paused to think about it. "I guess so." 

"What about Alan?" Virgil asked. 

I nudged him gently. "Allie?" He didn't stir. 

"Alan?" I jiggled my shoulder. Didn't work. 

John reached over and flicked his forehead. 

"Huh? Wah?" he jerked awake, a thin string of drool stretching from my shoulder to his mouth. He scrubbed at his cheek with one hand and rubbed his eyes with the other looking so disoriented I couldn't help but smile even though I did have a soggy shoulder. John passed us kleenex from under the coffee table.

“Eww, sorry,” Alan groaned, horrified. 

“It’s fine, boo,” I assured him as I wiped off my shoulder. I’d had worse and probably not for the last time. “Sorry to wake you after you had such a strenuous night killing zombies, but you need to get dressed.”

“We’re gonna wear the worst clothes we own,” Gordon told him. 

“OK,” Alan agreed, not even bothering to ask why they were doing such a thing. That was one thing that always made me laugh about him, he just went along with anything without needing an explanation.

“I guess we’re going to look awful today,” I sighed, following them out the door.

I didn't have a lot to choose from since my staying at the Island had been a gradual thing and I still had my own place, so most of the clothes I had shoehorned into an already pretty full wardrobe consisted of things I’d worn while there for one reason or another, a few bits that I’d obviously packed at some point and left there and things I’d left behind because I’d stolen something of someone elses to wear to go home. There were a few things I’d picked up on shopping trips with Grandma but all my truly hideous old stuff was at home.

“I don’t have anything to wear,” I complained to John who had his head buried inside his wardrobe and was digging around at the back.

“You always say that and it’s always a lie,” he answered.

“I mean it this time, this isn't just that there's nothing that I want to wear, I truly don’t have anything to wear, I only had the dress I wore last night because I wore it to Penny’s party and didn't go home. I’ve only got stuff here that I actually like, nothing hideous or old.”

“I beg to differ, that T-shirt you wear to bed is both old and hideous.”

“How dare you attack my muppets shirt, he of the disgusting dressing gown! That shirt happens to be my favorite and it’s vintage.”

He didn’t say anything in defense of his silk monstrosity, continuing to rummage for another minute before he backed out, dragging a box with him.

“What have you found?” I asked, genuinely interested. John wasn't one to keep a lot of things that were no longer useful to him, he had the same sentimental streak as the others but he was more practical with it and everyday items didn't seem to warrant the same loyalty as they did to me. I’m the type that won't throw out a broken pencil because I once wrote a shopping list with it. I’m a just in case type of person, it might be useful one day. If it's not useful straight away, John doesn't want it. Serve a purpose or get out. 

“My college things,” he flipped open the lid and I got down on the floor to nose through with him. There were sweatshirts, T-shirts, sweatpants, athletic shorts, tank tops and a few T-shirts with witty slogans on them including “I was taught to think before I act, so if I smack you, rest assured I’ve thought about it and I am confident in my decision”, “I wasn't listening, so I’m going to smile and hope for the best” and “I’m not superman, but I am a communications engineer, so close enough.”

“These are absolute gold!” I laughed, dragging them out. “Why don’t you wear these?”

“They were all gifts,” he shrugged. He selected one at random ( “I may be wrong...but it’s highly unlikely”) and a pair of Harvard sweatpants and pulled them on.

“I’ve still got nothing to wear,” I groused. “Help me!”

He gave me a look that said he’d done all he could already and now I was on my own, there was just no helping some people.

“Why don’t you just ask everyone to donate one item and see what you end up with?” he suggested.

“No, that’s ridic-” I paused. “Actually not a bad idea,” I finished and started drafting a text.

***

Jeff walked into the lounge an hour later and stopped dead in the doorway, his eyes tracking from one to the other and then back again, as if he couldn't quite take it all in to start with.

Scott was wearing an old Air Force hoodie and a pair of sweatpants so old that they were skin tight on him and only reached to just below his knees and the T-shirt he wore underneath was so faded it was almost see through.

Alan had emerged in a very short and tight Batman playsuit he apparently had when he was eight to go to a birthday party.

Gordon had donned an old shirt that said “I kiss dolphins on porpoise” with a very faded, too short and too tight shirt that looked like it might have once had waves and a surfboard on it but now I couldn't be sure, and he’d finished it off with a pair of olympic speedos. It was a look, I’d give him that.

Virgil just looked a mess, a grungy, disgusting mess, not helped by the fact that his standard look this week had been homeless lumberjack. His jeans, which I ‘think’ were once blue, had so many grease stains and paint splatters on them it was hard to tell, they were so stiffly encrusted with grot, especially on the thighs were he had a habit of wiping his hands, they looked like they could stand up on their own. His T-shirt was in a similar state as Scott’s, it had been white but had worn so thin you could see through it and it too was covered in paint splotches and had grease stain hand prints on it. What did that boy do to his damned clothes?

I looked the worst of the bunch. They had come through for me in spectacular fashion. I was wearing a T-shirt of Alan’s that had some computer game logo on it and was ripped half way up one seam, a pair of Hawaiian board shorts from Gordon, an old flannel shirt of Virgil’s (yep, it was dirty too and had little holes in it where he’d been grinding something and sparks had flown everywhere) and for some reason Scott had presented me with a very strangely patterned bandanna he’s picked up in Egypt, which was tied around my head. 

“Hey, Dad, we got dressed!” Gordon called out cherrily, waving from his spot on the couch.

“Don’t bother to tell me what is going on, I don’t even want to know,” he sighed, shaking his head in disbelief. Without another word he turned around and walked straight back out again.

Poor Jeff, when he told us to be professionals he should have realised that he was asking the impossible.


	73. Day 73

Day 73 of Isolation on Tracy Island

“Scott?”

“Yeah?” he looked over from the movie he was half watching, caught somewhere between wakefulness and sleep. 

“Can we go out?”

“Huh?” he frowned, clearly not following me at all. Can’t say I blame him, I hadn’t said a word for twenty minutes, a minor miracle for me, and then announced that. 

"Don't fall for it," John advised. 

“Can we go out?” I repeated. 

“Where? It’s not like there’s anywhere to go," Scott asked. 

I waved my phone at him. “England has just eased the lockdown and has said you can have up to six people in a garden at one time and I want to visit my mum.”

“Sure, I mean, I guess so. When do you want to go?” He’s such a good boy, this one.

“Now.”

“Now? You do realise it’s almost midnight, don’t you?” 

“Yeah, but we’re on the other side of the world, it’s daytime there. If we go in the morning it’ll be too late. Come on, please? I've not seen them in over two months."

“Why me?” he groaned. “It’s this supposed to be John’s job?”

“You have the craft that can get anywhere in the world in under twenty minutes. And he’s refused to ever go to her’s for a barbecue again.”

“Too right I have,” he muttered. I nudged him with my elbow and he nudged me back. We got into a little nudge fight until Scott cleared his throat.

“I’m probably going to regret asking this since I already said yes, but why won’t John go again?”

“Mum has a habit of inviting everyone she knows and then she forces us to socialise. Last time she towed him around and introduced him to everyone and forced him to eat three burgers because he is too skinny.”

“It was horrendous,” he shuddered. "I felt like I was on parade, I half expected someone to check my teeth and smack my rump."

“She can’t do it this time because of the six people limit, but apparently this brave, heroic rescuer isn't prepared to risk it.”

“Because I’m not stupid,” he snorted. “I’ll stay here and just be happy when you get back, OK?”

“That is somewhat acceptable,” I allowed. "But you had better be bloody ecstatic when I return."

“Can I take back my agreement to go?” Scott asked.

“No, but you can bring a few more brothers if you want to, choose wisely.”

“Virgil, everyone loves him,” Scott decided. “The other two can't be trusted anywhere. Hey, Virg?”

“Yeah?” he called back from the kitchen where he was making his ninth cup of coffee (and then wonders why he's still awake at 3am).

“You wanna go to a barbecue?”

“Food? Sure! When?”

“Now!”

“Sure!”

“I notice you didn’t tell him where,” John grinned, receiving a soft smack on the knee for the comment. 

“It won’t be that bad,” I insisted, but honestly I’m not sure who I was trying to convince. "She'll ask where you are, you know that, right?" 

"Tell her that I fell into a black hole and you're expecting it to spit me out sometime before Christmas."

"Yeah, like she's going to believe that one again."

***

There was a crowd of children outside as Scott lowered One down onto the grassy green outside Mum's house, managing to avoid the trees. Skilled, that one. I can’t even park straight most days.

“There you are!” Mum called from the door, refusing to step one foot outside while the rest of the world of out was around. “Go round the back, you can’t come inside the house, your brother’s already out there! Have you got a toilet in that fancy machine? Because you can’t come inside the house! Did you bring your own plates? Because you-”

“Can’t come inside the house,” we choroused. 

“We know, Mum, don’t worry.”

“Alright,” she answered. “Oh, did you bring your own drinks? Because you can’t come inside the house. No cuppa for you today, sorry, because you can’t come in and you know I won’t have my good mugs out in the garden.”

“It’s fine, Mum, we can only stay for an hour anyway, it’s getting late.”

“It’s only just gone one!”

“Yeah, but it’s one in the morning for us, you know that.”

“Oh, I’ll never get used to that nonsense,” she muttered dismissively as she shut the door on us.

“Should I be scared?” Virgil asked.

“No, don’t be silly, she loves you,” I assured him, silently crossing my fingers in the hope that I wasn't lying to him.

We’ll just stay an hour turned into three and it was growing light by the time we touched back down Tracy Island side. John was dozing on the couch when we got back. I waved one of the leftover burgers under his nose that Scott had ended up cooking because Mum had decided that drinking copious amounts of gin was a better use of her time than actually cooking the food she’d invited us to eat. My brother, being a vegetarian, refused to touch anything meat related and wouldn’t cook either.

John grabbed at the burger without even opening his eyes, catching my wrist and directing it towards his mouth while I held it for him, only sitting up to take it once he’d taken a bite.

“Lazy,” I accused, but he knew I didn’t mean it.

“How bad was it?” he asked Scott and Virgil, who flopped wearily down on the couch opposite.

“I had a great time,” Virgil grinned.

“Only because of the dog,” Scott grumbled.

“Mum’s dog fell in love with him,” I explained. “Fat, soppy staffie that insisted on climbing on his lap and refused to move.”

“He was cute,” Virgil cooed. “And he loved me.”

“That dog loves everyone,” John told him. “You aren’t special.”

“Apparently Scott is,” I grinned. “Mum thinks he’s the most handsome thing ever to have walked this earth, she is obsessed with him. She kept checking him out, I’m sure of it.”

“I feel slightly violated,” Scott confessed. “She wouldn’t leave me alone, she kept asking me questions.”

“She did that to me too,” John told him. “Did she call all her neighbours to come to meet you?”

“Yes, one even got a ladder out to wave over the fence”

“Did she tell you all that she loves you because she was tipsy?”

“Many times, we got a lot of attention.”

“Did you end up cooking because she forgot to and burnt the first batch?” John continued his interrogation. 

“No, I ended up cooking because the first batch were only cooked on one side,” Scott answered.

“I played with the puppy,” Virgil smiled.

“He’s hardly a puppy, he’s eleven,” I laughed.

“They are puppies forever,” he insisted.

“So you regret taking her?”John asked Scott.

“No, of course not. She’s been here for more than two months with our family, she needed to see her’s,” he answered. “But I do regret forgetting to set the alarm on One and now we have to scrub off a rude depiction of a piece of male anatomy that’s been spray painted on one of her tail fins.” Scott yawned and got up. “I’m going to get a few hours sleep before we give my baby a bath.”

“Scott!” Virgil yelled, jumping up and following after him. “Can we get a puppy?”

“And you wondered why I didn’t want to go,” John finished his burger and grabbed my hand, hauling me to my feet. “Bed for you, it’s late and you know full well you’ll be helping him clean tomorrow.”


	74. Day 74

Day 74 of Isolation on Tracy Island

“What on earth are you two doing?” Gordon asked, popping up out of nowhere like a tropical jack-in-the-box, his shirt flapping in the breeze, making us both jump.

We were doing nothing more exciting than stretching out on the couch, where I had forced John to settle by laying on him and then demanded he read to me. And since that was actually a pretty normal occurrence, I was at a loss as to what he was referring to. Knowing him he'd just declared today to be "eat with your toes day" or something equally ridiculous and was annoyed we weren't playing along. 

John stopped reading to glare at him. I lifted my head off his shoulder to join in with the glaring.

“We were trying to have a quiet moment without constant interruptions,” I told him. Why did he have to have so many brothers? 

“I told you we should have gone up to Five for a few days,” John sighed, picking up the book again and continuing to read from where he had left off. I snuggled closer to listen.

“This supernatural soliciting  
Cannot be ill, cannot be good. If ill,  
Why hath it given me earnest of success,  
Commencing in a truth? I am Thane of Cawdor.  
If good, why do I yield to that suggestion  
Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair  
And make my seated heart knock at my ribs,  
Against the use of nature? Present fears  
Are less than-”

“That! That’s what I meant. What are you doing?” Gordon interrupted again.

“Trying to read Macbeth, obviously,” I grumbled. 

“Why? It’s rubbish. No one reads that sort of thing any more.”

“Sure they do. Did you not read Shakespear in highschool?” I asked.

“Only when I had to, not for fun," he sneered that last word like in the same tone people use when they have just trodden in something disgusting or realised there is no milk left in the house. 

“You don’t know what you’re missing,” I told him. 

“You two are so weird, there are billions of books out there and you are reading one so old that hardly anyone can even understand it any more.”

“We understand it, or we wouldn't be reading it,” John sighed. “It’s not our fault that it’s too intellectual for you.”

“I could understand it just fine if I wanted to!” Gordon protested. We snorted in disbelief. “Hey! I can be an intellectual too, I can be smart. Move over!” 

He shoved out legs out of the way, forcing us to sit up and dropped down next to me on the couch.

“Do you have to be here?” John asked.

“Yes. I’m going to prove that I’m smart, keep reading.”

John sighed but continued where he had left off, obviously knowing that there is very little point arguing with him.

“Are less than horrible imaginings.  
My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical.  
Shakes so my single state of man.  
That function is smothered in-”

“Nope! I can’t do it! It’s just so boring!” Gordon wailed. 

“Heathen!” I smacked him with a cushion.

“Out of my sight! Thou doth infect my eyes!” John flicked his forehead. 

“What was that?” Gordon asked, beginning to laugh. “Did you just insult me in your weird Shakespear language?”

"Yes, because we invented old English," I sighed. 

“Thou art a dull and muddy-mettled rascal.”

“Did you just call me stupid in old english?”

“Yep,” I grinned. “He did. It isn't boring, Shakespear is a total G.”

“Yeah, right, still sounds boring to me.”

“Macbeth is a masterpiece, it's about a Scottish dude and his mate who meet these three witches and they, out of the goodness of their hearts, give him a prophecy telling him that he’ll become king of Scotland but that his mate will father a whole line of Scottish kings but won't be king himself. Feeling like this is totally his destiny he isn’t prepared to wait it out and see what happens, he wants to be king now, so, with the urging of his wife, he kills the king and his mate. He is crowned but he becomes overwhelmed with guilt and paranoia. He goes back to the witches and they tell him that he must beware of some other dude named Macduff but that Macbeth is incapable of being harmed by any man born of a woman. So Maccy B, he gets a bit cocky and thinks it's all good for a while, even though Macbeth’s wife is going a little cray cray and taking the whole handwashing thing a wee bit too seriously. But then Macduff gets in on the action and brings an army with him, they storm the castle and Macduff tells old Bethy that he was born by cesarean-”

“Untimely ripped from his mother's womb,” John added.

“And Duffy beheads Macbeth and this other dude named Malcom that I forgot to mention, becomes king. See? It’s great!”

“Love, you just butchered Shakespear so badly that even I didn’t understand half of what you just said.”

“It’s my gift to the world,” I shrugged. “My ability to sum up a plot so badly that even I’m not sure if it makes sense. But I thought I did OK with that one.”

“Yeahhh, not so much,” Gordon teased. “I tuned you out three words in.”

“John, insult your brother for me, I am no longer talking to him.”

“Thou yeasty folly-fallen bladder.”

“How dare you, sir! I have no idea what that means but it sounds bad.”

“That’s kind of the point.”

“What’s the point?” Scott chose that moment to walk in, catching the tail end of the conversation.

“John is insulting me!”

“What did you do?”

“Insulted him.”

“I was asking Gordon.”

I cracked up laughing, Scott always has our backs.

“He said that Shakespeare was boring and then was mean to me after I took the time to explain the plot to him. Now I’m not talking to him.”

“Did you explain it the same way you explained The Witches of Eastwick to Virgil? Because I’d seen it and I didn’t understand that either.”

“My talents are wasted on you all,” I nudged John and quirked an eyebrow in Scott’s direction. He rolled his eyes but dutifully dragged out a premium insult. 

“Sense sure you haven else could not have motion; but sure that sense is apoplex’d. ”

“Oh my god, you can still do that?” Scott laughed in amazement.

“Do what, insult people?” Gordon asked, clearly confused.

“John was in a Shakespearean insult team in highschool, they actually took part in competitions, he was obviously the champion, won them the league and a bust of Shakespeare’s head as a trophy.”

“Obviously,” I agreed, patting his hand proudly. “Dude got mad skills.”

Gordon's eyes flicked up to the bookshelf on the balcony above our heads where a small gold bust sat.

“You are so weird.”

“So you frequently tell me. Now, will you two kindly go away and leave us in peace?”

“Oh no, no way,” Scott laughed. “I want to hear more, in fact, I’m calling the others.”

And that’s the story of how John spent more than three hours blowing their minds and damaging their egos with a never ending volley of insults as they goaded him into more and more outlandish attacks. Here are some of the best.

Thou hath not so much brain as ear wax - to Gordon because he’s not intelligent enough to appreciate old english.

Thou qualling ill-nurtured lout - to Alan who kept chanting “me next, me next”.

Most shallow man! Thou worms-meat in respect of a good piece of flesh indeed- to Virgil because he was in the middle of trying to tame his hair when he was summoned.

Go, prick thy face, and over-red thy fear, Thou lily-liver’d boy - to Scott because he was brave enough to attempt to insult him back.

Thou fawning spur-galled harpy!- at me when I stole his coffee

You should be women, and yet your beards forbid me to interpret that you are so- to all of them.

Your face is a book, where men may read strange matters- to me, because I’m a strange, strange lady and asked for another insult.

Thou fusty onion-eyed nut-hook! - at Virgil, no reason at all.

Draw thy tool. My naked weapon is out- after flipping a certain finger at Scott.

Thou wimpled bat-fowling puttock- at Gordon because it was his fault that John was stuck insulting people when he had just wanted a quiet afternoon.

Thou currish bade-court hedge-pig- at Alan while examining his chin growth.

What, you egg! Young fry of treachery! - at Alan when he sided with Gordon.

Assume a virtue if you have it not- at Gordon when he protested his innocence.

Thou artless tickle-brained haggard! - at Virgil when he compared John’s nose to Shakespeare’s massive hooter.

Thou villainous weather-brained barnacle!- at Gordon, just because, and now everyone is calling him a weather-brained barnacle.

Get thee to a nunnery- to me when I said his Shakespearean accent was strangely hot.

Thou puny rampallian baggage- at Gordon, for no reason other than he’s short.

Thou art some fool, I am loath to beat thee- at Scott when he attempted to start a Shakespearean rap battle (don’t ask, it didn’t last long)

Thine face is not worth sunburning- to Virgil who thinks he’s too cool for sunscreen and has a red nose because he fell asleep in the sun again.

You yourself, sir, shall grow old as I am if like a crab you could go backwards- at Jeff who wanted to know just what the heck was happening in his lounge and why we were all screaming with hysterical laughter.

I scorn you, scurvy companion. What, you poor, base, rascally, cheating, lack-linen mate! Away, you moldy rogue away!- at Alan when he tried to steal one of John’s cookies while he was distracted.

Away, you bottle-ale rascal, you filthy bung, away!- At Gordon when he also attempted cookie theft.

The insult lashes came to a halt when Grandma called us for dinner.

“Hey, John?” Gordon whispered as we bundled down the stairs to the kitchen

“Yeah?” 

“I dare you to insult Grandma’s cooking.”

“No, my love, it’s not worth it, think of the children!” I gasped.

“What children?” he asked, genuinely perplexed.

I shrugged. “Our non-existent children, I just thought I'd go full movie heroine for dramatic effect. You do what you want, you’re all crazy.”  
He narrowed his eyes as he thought about it, then nodded. I should have known, no Tracy can resist a dare.

Grandma plonked down plates of something that might have been chicken, but also might have been sausages in a gravy for gruel straight out of a Dickensean nightmare.

I watched John out of the corner of my eye. Would he actually do it? He took a deep breath, as if psyching himself up for it. I couldn't blame him. He pushed the plate away and opened his mouth.

“Away, you starvelling, you elf-skin, you dried neat’s-tongue, bull’s-pizzle, you stock-fish! Tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers.”

I think John’s grounded now, but the boys still haven't stopped laughing...


	75. Day 75

Day 75 of Isolation on Tracy Island.

“Come on, chop chop, time to wash my baby!” Scott yodled down the stairs to us. The cleaning of Thunderbird One had been pushed back by the impromptu brother bashing that took place in the form of Shakespeare. Since it was kinda my fault that his precious one had acquired it’s new decoration and I had promised to help but, that didn’t mean that I had to go quietly or that I couldn't rope in extra hands to help.

“Come on, you promised!” I pouted, dragging John and Alan by their hands.

“No fair, we have to do our chores and yours?” Alan whined.

“No, you help us so that we can be done quicker and then get to that movie you are forcing me to watch with you,” I retorted.

“Fine,” he huffed. “But I can still complain while doing it, right?”

“Sure, kiddo, knock yourself out.”

Scott was waiting for us with buckets of water, a special cleaner that Virgil had mixed up for them that was gentle on the paint jobs but tough on the stains that always seemed to stick to their crafts like glue.

We were given our orders the moment we appeared and John and I got to work on the top part of the graffiti anatomy while Scott and Alan tackled the…bottom bulges.

"This is so boring!" Alan moaned, rubbing at the paint. 

“Where’s Virg and Gordo?” Scott asked, growing a little red in the face as he scrubbed like crazy at the paint that had marred his crafts perfection.

“Have no fear, the squid is here!” Gordon glided past us. And when I say glided, I mean he zoomed past quite gracefully on his roller skates.

“Gordon...” Scott sighed, he didn’t need to say anything else, the tone said it all.

“Hey, I said I’d help, I didn’t say I wouldn't do it with style!”

He tapped a few buttons on his comm and music began to pound through the hangar. It was awful music, but it had a beat that you just couldn’t help but vibe to. 

Music always makes things better, no matter how bad it is and I was soon having myself a nice little boogie time as I worked on a particularly stubborn line of paint. 

We worked our way through three increasingly terrible songs, scrubba-dub-dubbing at One and by working together we had cleaned off all the graffiti that had so offended Scott.

“Phew, nearly done,” I huffed, wiping my sweating forehead with the back of my hand. “How is it so hot down here?”

“It was an active volcano…” John started but Gordon jumped in.

“I’ll help!”

“No, Gordon it’s fine I- gahhhhhh!” I spluttered as a jet of water hit me full in the face.

“Gordon,” John sighed. “If I was you, I’d run.”

“I’ll kill him!” I screamed, grabbing a bucket of dirty water and hurling it at his rapidly retreating back. I missed, obviously, as I am both a terrible shot and not as strong as the boys, which meant that my projectile missed it’s mark by a good few feet and hit Virgil who had at that very moment, chosen to walk around the nose cone and appear as if by magic.

“Hey, what the heck?” he yelped as the bucket crashed to earth at his feet, soaking his shoes and his jeans up to the knee.

“I’m sorry, I was aiming for Gordon!” 

“Understandable,” he agreed, shaking his foot like a dog with sticky tape on his toe. “I have a water cannon on Two.” 

“I don’t think this warrants anything that drastic,” I told him, “but thank you for the offer.”

“We have a lot of sponges here,” Alan pointed out, lifting one up and dropping it on the floor with a wet splat.

“Do I take it that you’re all done cleaning then?” Scott asked, but I suspect he already knew the answer. One was half clean, the graffiti was gone and now we were just cleaning the rest of it, it could wait. 

“Yep!” Alan grabbed his bucked and emptied it out, filling it with fresh water and dumped in a few sponges before taking off for the door. We all did the same and followed close behind him.

We caught up with Gordon out on Two’s runway where he was happily skating. We took aim and let the missiles fly, pelting him with wet sponges taking him by surprise.

He retaliated by trying to catch the sponges that flew his way and tossing them back. One hit me square in the chest and I flailed, stumbling backwards. Virgil swooped in and caught me like a true superhero and set me back on my feet.

Alan, little legend that he is, somehow located a big water pistol from parts unknown and loaded up, squirting a long stream at Gordon. 

Gordon, soaking wet, zig-zagged madly here and there on his skates, trying to avoid the onslaught.

John emerged from the hangar with the same hose that Gordon had attacked me with and turned it on Gordon, who shrieked in horror as the water smacked him straight in the crotch.

“Why does everyone aim there on me?!” he bellowed, sending Alan into hysterics.

I grabbed another sponge and aimed at Gordon but, once again, I missed. It was a combination of my aim letting me down and the wind intervening to send the sponge hurtling at John to smack him square in the chest.

“You got me!” he accused, having previously remained dry and unscathed.

“I’m sorry!” He looked so put out that I had to hold in a giggle. I failed.

"Are you laughing at me?" 

"No?" 

He raised an eyebrow. 

"OK, I am, but just a tiny bit. Forgive me?" 

He opened his arms and I shuffled over for a hug. He wrapped his arms around me and hugged me tight…too tight. 

"Get her!" he yelled, spinning me around and lifting me off my feet. 

I screamed and kicked as I was pelted from all sides.

"Oh, it's on!" I yelled, managing to catch a sponge that was aimed at my chest and slapping it into John's face. He spluttered and dropped me. 

I was up in seconds and grabbed a bucket, throwing the entire contents at Scott who had just turned the hose on me. 

"You beast!" 

"You got me!" 

"Take that!" 

"Noooo, not down my shirt!" 

"That was so cold!" 

"I'll get you for that!" 

"Duck!" 

Chaos, screams, yelled insults and threats filled the air. Water, sponges and buckets were flying in all directions, someone had even managed to find a towel and John had soaked it and was using it to whip anyone that came to close. 

"Back! Away, thou loathsome toad!" he whirled the towel like a lion tamer, whipping at the air in warning. 

Virgil had hold of Alan's water pistol and was aiming at people, getting many of us directly between the eyes or in our mouths. 

Gordon had kicked off his skates, needing more stability and was capering around like a drunk monkey, dodging streams of water and retaliating with his own. 

I ducked behind Virgil, using him as a shield when I spotted Scott sneaking to the side and diving into the hangar. 

"Where did he go?" Alan demanded to know. 

"I don't know!" Gordon yelled back. 

Something moved to the side of me, catching my eye, then it happened again. Poles rose out of the ground, evenly spaced along the runway. 

"Scott, no!" John yelled but he was too late. 

"Scott yes!" Scott yelled back. 

The fire hoses burst into life, raining water down all around us, soaking us to the skin. 

"Ha! I win! Scott whooped in triumph as we all screamed. 

We were a soaked to the skin, dripping wet mess by the time we finally called it a day and headed inside to get dry. The boys hair was sticking up all over the place where they had rubbed it dry with towels and their beards were still damp and they would never win any beauty contests. Honestly, if their fans could see them now they would abandon them in disgust, but you know what, it's good that they have had this time to let their hair down (literally) and to take some much needed time off. We don't know how long lockdown is going to last, but for now we are all treating it like an enforced vacation and making the most of it. Even if they do all look like castaways on their own island.


	76. Day 76

Day 76 of Isolation on Tracy Island

“Scott?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you know anything about this?” I held up my headphones, which had been previously missing for maybe the last eight months and that I had just found in the cutlery drawer.

“Yeah, they’re headphones.”

“Thank you Captain Obvious, I meant why are they in with the knives and forks?”

He shrugged. “Why are you asking me?”

“Because you were hiding socks around the place for over three weeks.”

“Only because it took you so long to give them back to me. I started after we watched Half Blood Prince, I thought it would make you laugh but you just kept ignoring them.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry I didn’t realise you needed to be freed!”

“Of course I did! I was your house elf!”

“House elves do chores! They don’t sit around being fed and demanding attention!”

“I’m a progressive house elf that is fighting for elf rights!”

“No you aren't, you’re a lazy bum!”

“Lazy? Me?”

“Yes, you!”

“I will never understand the conversations you two have,” John muttered as he pushed past us to fill his mug with the coffee I had just brewed. 

“It’s affectionate arguing,” Scott laughed, sliding his mug over to John for a top up.

“So no one knows why my headphones have just suddenly turned up from wherever they vanished to and magicked themselves into the kitchen?”

“Nope,” Scott gave up waiting for John to pour him a drink and stole mine. I narrowed my eyes in his general direction. John slid a fresh cup over to me. Such a great guy.

“You know,” John mused. “I found one of my world geography books in the bathroom cupboard.”

“I found my utility knife in the piano stool,” Virgil added, wandering over to snag some toast that had just popped up.

“I just made that,” I told him.

“Thank you,” he continued to butter it. I stared at his plaid clad back for a few seconds but when he failed to burst into flames I gave up and dropped some more bread into the toaster.

“Now that I think about it,” Scott mused, “I found my guitar pick in the fruit bowl, the one that I got from that little shop in Texas. I thought I lost it for good years ago but it just appeared out of nowhere.”

“Something strange is going on,” Virgil declared. “If stuff we lost is returning there has to be a reason for it.”

“Parallel universe,” I answered confidently.

“I don’t think that's a thing,” Scott said gently.

“Apports then?” I offered.

“No, I don’t think...what’s an apport?” Virgil asked.

“An object conjured out of nothing by a ghost, obviously.”

“I don’t think this is the work of a ghost, love," John said, squeezing my shoulder as he passed by to take a seat. “There’s only one person that borrows things without asking and that’s Gordon.”

“That was going to be my next guess,” I admitted.

“Yet you went straight for ghosts and different universes?” Scott asked, clearly bemused.

“Well, maybe, just for once, I wanted something interesting to happen around here that I could actually deal with,” I huffed. “Sue me.”

“Only you could think ghosts and different realms were something that’s easy to deal with when you were the one that screamed and climbed me like a monkey because a crab ran over your foot on the beach last night,” John laughed.

“Crabs have pincers, any sane person would get away from one of them,” I pouted, reaching for some toast off Virgil’s plate. Honestly I don’t know why we don't just have communal plates in this house, no one seems to eat their own food.

“So what are we going to do about Gordon being a kleptomaniac?” I asked.

“We’ll deal with him after breakfast,” Scott decided, leaning over and biting the corner off my toast. See? No boundaries whatsoever.

***

The klepto in question was sneaking suspiciously around the lounge when we tracked him down and we caught him in the act of leaving a magnifying glass behind a book on the bookcase.

“Busted,” Scott yelled, making Gordon jump about a foot in the air.

“So it was you that’s been leaving our belongings scattered around the house,” Virgil sighed.

“Why are you doing this?” John asked, although his tone said he was debating the wiseness of even posing the question and was unsure he actually wanted an answer.

“Can’t a guy do something nice for his family?”

“He can when he’s not the one thats been stealing things in the first place,” I shot back, arms folded, foot tapping.

“I’m offended!” Gordon gasped dramatically. “A Tracy doesn’t steal unless its Virgil and a bell takes his fancy-”

“That was one time and it was an accident!”

“I may borrow things,” Gordon continued.

“For three years?” Scott snorted.

“I borrow on extended loan-”

“Without permission,” John added.

“But you always get them back eventually,” Gordon finished triumphantly. “I got bored and cleaned my room and it was like unearthing buried treasure. I may have forgotten that I borrowed a few things but you’ve got them back now, so no harm no foul.”

“Is that all you needed to return?” Virgil sighed.

“There might be a few other things scattered around,” Gordon admitted.

“Go and get them,” Scott ordered.

Gordon staggered in half an hour later weighed down by a massive box overflowing with his plundered loot.

“Seriously?” Scott gaped as the box thumped down on the table.

“All of that?” Virgil couldn't believe his eyes.

“Not surprised,” John muttered.

“How did you manage to borrow all that?” Alan asked in awe, having been summoned from his pit to claim any lost items that may have fallen into Gordons possession. “I’m not even allowed to borrow a pen.”

“It’s because he doesn’t bother asking,” John told him.

“That’s where I’ve been going wrong!”

Gordon shooty finger winked at him.

“No!” I yelped, intervening for the first time and grabbing Alan, pulling him into my arms. “Do not corrupt this precious bean.”

“Too...late,” Alan wheezed, trying to escape my python like grasp.

“Oh, sorry,” I let go and Alan took a dramatically deep breath.

“What’s in the box, Squid?” Scott asked.

Gordon tipped the box up and out tumbled a mass of things that shocked even me.

“That’s my baseball cap,” Scott snagged it.

“My gloves,” Virgil claimed them.

“That’s my camera,” John snatched it up. “I thought I left that behind on the beach and the sea took it.” 

“Well, technically the sea’s representative did,” I giggled, then noticed something in the middle of the pile. “Why do you have my headscarf? You know that I use that when you guys force me to get in a boat, it makes me feel fancy.”

“Are those my sunglasses?”

“Yes, I broke mine and was going fishing.”

“Is that my lipstick?”

“Yeah, I used it to draw blood on my neck so I could be a zombie at halloween.”

“There’s my ocarina.”

“It was so weird I had to try it.”

“Is that my belt?”

“Yeah, remember that date I went on with Penny? It went really well with those navy pants.”

“I thought I lost that harmonica.”

“I was going through a depressed week and wanted to play the blues.”

“Is that my cologne?”

“Same date.”

“Why do you have my toothbrush?”

“I used it to clean the sand out of one of Four’s filters.”

“My playing cards!”

“Yeah, I wanted to learn card tricks.”

“My travel chess set!”

“Four of the pawns are missing now, sorry.”

“Seriously, my drill?”

“I wanted to put up a picture.”

“Why did you need my tie?”

“That's classified.”

“That’s my favorite pen.”

“Yeah, I’ve got no excuse for that, I used it, put it in my pocket and forgot about it.”

“Gordon, why do you have my flip flops?”

“Mine broke and your’s were nearest.”

An endless stream of lost objects had suddenly returned home and it was a tad overwhelming but along with his more recent acquisitions were items that hadn’t been seen in forever.

“I remember this game!” Alan exclaimed, grabbing the box. “John and I used to play it all the time when I was little. You had to be astronauts and fly through the meteor showers and land on different planets and fight aliens. It was great. We had the best scores, no one could beat us.”

“Actually, I had the best scores,” John corrected him.

“No way, it was a team effort, we played that together every night after I got home from school.”

Virgil chuckled. 

“What?” Alan looked confused. “Why are you laughing?”

“I may have taken the batteries out of your controller and just let you think you were playing.” John admitted.

“What! That was one of my greatest achievements in life!”

“Alan, you went into space when you were thirteen,” John pointed out.

“Oh yeah!”

Virgil spotted a book and picked it up. “I haven’t seen this since we were little.”

“Oh, I remember that one,” Scott smiled. “Mom had it when she was small and she used to read it to us every thanksgiving.”

John was busy sifting through the pile. “Hey, my first star globe, why do you have this?”

“Remember when I used to get upset when Dad went away? Well you used to point out all the different stars to me on it and where the moon was near them.”

“Oh yeah,” John smiled, “I remember that, I let you borrow it to keep beside your bed so you could see where Dad was every night.”

“That’s my old teddy bear,” Scott smiled, picking it up and sitting it on his lap. “I left him with you when I went to college.”

“I know, I told you that I was too old to have a plushie in my room but you insisted. I passed him on to Alan and when we moved I guess he got packed up with my things.”

“That’s the children’s guitar that Mom taught us to play,” Virgil picked it up and strummed a few cords but the tuning was terrible.

“I’ve never seen that before,” Alan said quietly. “In fact, I don’t remember much of any of this stuff.” He gestured to the pile of things that still remained scattered on the table top. “I don’t know that pencil sharpener, that snow globe or those shell bracelets, I don’t know any of it.”

“Neither do I,” I reminded him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. 

“I don’t have any memories of them so they don’t mean anything to me.”

“But that’s what’s so great about things and why I keep telling your brother that not everything has to have a use all the time. Things are there to remind us of the good times, just the sight of them can conjure up images, but they are also there to encourage us to share those memories. I used to love looking through my Nan and Grandad’s cupboards because I discovered so many things that were interesting,” I told him. “I’d ask them about them and they would tell me where they got them or who they belonged to before they got them and it was so nice to see the joy that the memories brought them. Pick something and ask about them, let’s share memories.”

Slowly Alan reached out to touch the small pile of shell bracelets.

“Where did these come from?”

“We were on a trip to the beach,” Scott started.

“Gordon was running all over picking up little shells and bringing them back to Mom,” Virgil continued.

“She ended up with a huge pile of them,” John laughed. “But Gordon didn't want her to put them back.”

“She ended up asking Dad to drill a tiny hole through each of them and she made them into bracelets for us as a reminder of the vacation,” Scott picked up the story.

“We wore them for a few days but Gordon kept stealing them because he loved the shells,” Virgil added.

“I remember that,” Gordon smiled. “There’s a picture in the album of me wearing them all, I don’t look any older than five.”

Alan picked them up, rubbing one of the shells between thumb and finger. “Why are there five of them?”

“Because Mom was pregnant with you at the time and said that you were there too so you should have a bracelet,” Scott smiled, reaching over to take one. “This was mine.”

One by one the others each claimed a bracelet, leaving Alan with just one.

“You’re right, that’s a nice story to hear,” he admitted, slipping the bracelet over his hand.

“Hey, here’s an idea,” I suggested. “This has been a mad few months, how about we start a new memory box and in ten years time we’ll look back in it and remember the longest vacation ever.”

“Yeah,” Alan nodded. “That could be cool.”

The box slowly filled up with bits and pieces.

Here are some of them.

-Some of our finished colouring pages.  
-Gordon’s tablet that hadn’t recovered from its unscheduled dip in the bath.  
-Brains’s broken glasses and a broken piece of his microscope that fell off of Alan when we played human buckaroo  
-A small pile of post-it’s which Scott had used on April fools day to label everything in the lounge.  
-The rubber spider John had pranked me with.  
-A pair of the bunny ears the boys wore to deliver Easter eggs.  
-The empty bottle of ‘Chill Pills’ Scott got for his birthday.  
-A selection of our pictionary artwork.  
-The beauty blender Virgil ruined on Gordon’s face.  
-An empty popcorn bag Alan found stuffed between the couch cushions from one of our many movie nights.  
-One of Scott’s socks that hadn’t been found before.  
-A gaudy necklace from our lip sync battle  
-A clue list from our scavenger hunt  
-A shell I picked up on the beach the day they taught me to surf.  
-The evil Furby  
-The purple wig we made John wear (he was very glad to donate it to the memory box)

“OK, so, we don’t take anything out but we can add more for as long as isolation goes on?” Alan confirmed.

“Yep,” I nodded. “Who’s going to be in charge of keeping it safe?”

“Gordon should,” Alan said. “Since he seems to be the keeper of everyone’s things.”

“Even without permission,” John muttered, tucking his pen into his pocket in case it went walkies again.

“Actually,” Gordon said, “I think Alan should look after it for us.”

“Really? You mean that?” Alan grinned.

“Sure, kiddo,” Scott agreed. “After all, they’re your memories too.”


	77. Day 77

Day 77 of Isolation on Tracy Island and Alan wanted hotdogs. Not so crazy a thing you might say, but apparently the hotdogs came with a request for beach time, bonfire and spooky story telling before camping on the beach for the night. I was unaware of this little ritual, I had simply wandered along with them in the quest for food. 

I like beach time, being a city girl as I am, I’m used to going to the seaside being a strictly once or twice a year event, a day out, a big deal, so to just be able to walk out of the house and down some stairs and find yourself on the beach is pretty magical. 

Hearing the constant sound of waves took some getting used to, they kept me awake at first, but now it’s just part of the normal ambience of the island. Quiet evenings curled up on the couch with a book or some other hobby and soft music courtesy of one of the boys, usually Virgil but sometimes Scott or Gordon, were the norm now. Or a movie night where we all piled on the couches together. Everything we did was accompanied by the sound of the sea. Of all the things I’d had to get used to in regards to living on the island, that was by far one of the easiest and most pleasant. 

Blankets and pillows were dragged down to the sand, logs and kindling was taken from storage, hotdogs and buns were collected along with long metal toasting forks on which we’d spear the sausages and toast them over the flames, apparently we were going full on rustic. 

Someone had brought along beers and flasks full of cocoa for those of us who weren't in the mood for a drink and tents had been pitched on the sand, although Jeff and Grandma were refusing to camp out. I debated doing the same because I am not a dude and I do not possess the same equipment that they had which allowed them to not need to sit down to use the bathroom, but I was beaten down and made to promise I’d last the entire night.

“OK, I’ll camp, but there had better not be any crabs that will invade the tent in the middle of the night and if I need to pee one of you has to come with me. Promise you’ll come to protect me from creepy crawlies and things that might attack me.”

“We promise we’ll come with you to the bathroom,” Scott assured me.

“And you promise that the toilet in the hangar still has toilet paper?”

“Yes, there is toilet paper,” Virgil promised.

“And you promise that we’ll be camped far enough away from the water that we won't get washed out to sea?”

“Seriously? You actually think we’d let that happen?” Gordon asked.

“Well, I don’t know, you might be sick of me by now,” I shrugged. 

They all looked at me.

“Well don’t all deny it at once,” I grumbled. “I might start to think that you like me!”

“We didn’t answer because we weren’t prepared to dignify your blatant need for validation and attention with an answer,” John informed me. 

“And frankly we’re slightly insulted that you’d even say it,” Scott sniffed.

“Good try,” Alan hugged me, “but you’re sleeping on the beach with us tonight.”

“Joy,” I muttered. “A night on hard, cold, damp sand when I could be in a soft bed, however will I contain my excitement?”

***

Alan choked on his hotdog, his eyes wide as Jeff finished up his spooky story about the ghost of a cowboy who haunted the back roads of Kansas who had a habit of stealing horses and running them until they collapsed and he could keep them for himself. 

Jeff lowered the torch from under his chin and held it out handle first, slowly revolving it around the circle until someone claimed it.

John nudged me. “Go on, you’re good at telling stories.”

I shook my head. “No, I don’t think so, ghost stories don’t really scare me, humans do.”

“Then tell us a scary story about a human then,” Gordon pushed.

“Fiiiiine,” I groaned, “but don’t blame me if it’s pants.”

I took the torch and flipped it around, almost blinding myself in the process.

“Emily squinted through what little the windscreen wipers managed to clear, peering at the road ahead. Her headlights barely made a dent in the oppressive blackness that was all around her. No light from the moon spilled through the trees that surrounded the road on both sides, no streetlights to ease the darkness. Just herself, her car and the radio playing quietly in the background. She had always hated travelling alone at night, hated that she was forced to drive from one town to the next, never knowing when it would all end,” I began.

“Is this a boring chick story?” Gordon groaned. I smacked him lightly with the torch.

“Shut up, I’m talking here, do you want a story or not?”

“Continue,” Jeff insisted, “I apologise in advance for my rude children.” I nodded and carried on telling the story.

“She just wanted to get home, having been away for far too long. Circumstances were always getting in the way and preventing her from completing her return journey. But this time she would make it, this time she was determined to get home, no hick-ups, no disasters, nothing. At least, not if she had her way.”

Scott snorted. “That never happens, the second you think that all the disasters are over another one comes along to wreck your plans.” The others nodded sagely.

“Peering through the arches in the rain splattered windscreen she tried to look ahead to the bend in the road, checking for oncoming traffic. There shouldn’t be anything at this hour, she glanced at the clock on the dashboard, at almost eleven on a quiet Sunday night. Flicking her eyes back at the road she screamed in shock as a figure emerged from the darkness and stepped out in front of her car. Slamming her foot on the brakes, knuckles white on the steering wheel, she wrenched it this way and that in a total panic trying to swerve away from the figure.”

“That’s how she dies,” Kayo commented. “Her complete lack of ability to drive.” I ignored her and continued.

“With a squeal of rubber on the wet, slick road she came to a stop no more than a foot away from the figure, her heart pounding in her ears, breath coming out in sharp pants as she struggled to regain her composure.”

“She’d never be good during a real situation,” John muttered.

“Guys, I’m trying to set a scene here,” I sighed.

“Sorry,” they all choroused. 

“Needing something to focus on she looked ahead at the figure, her windscreen wipers still battling the heavy rain. All she could make out was that the person was tall, he, she guessed it was a he, was wearing a rain soaked parker, the hood pulled up obscuring his face with a beaten up rucksack over one shoulder.

She closed her eyes as her breathing finally began to return to a semi-normal state only to jump out of her skin, giving a little yelp of shock when there was a rap on the passenger side window. She dived for the door lock but her reaction was too slow. The man opened the door and climbed straight into the car, dumping his bag in the foot well.”

“Oh, hell no!” Kayo huffed. “Kick his butt out, don’t stand for that! You’re a woman, you are powerful!”

" 'What the hell do you think you are doing?' Emily gasped.

The man shook off his hood and ran his fingers through his wet hair.

'You almost ran me over, I figured the least you could do was give me a ride into the nearest town. I’ve been trying to get a lift for three hours and not one person stopped. People these days never stop to help someone in need anymore' 

Spluttering with indignation, Emily managed to choke out.

‘Well you won’t be getting a lift from me. Get out. I don’t pick up strange men at the side of the road.’

The man shook his head splattering rain drops in her direction and turned to look at her, his deep brown eyes boring into hers, making her shiver slightly.

‘Not gonna happen, I’m not moving. You almost killed me out there, it’s not safe’ He turned in his seat and brazenly pulled the safety belt over his upper body and clicked it into place.”

“How dare he?” Alan gasped. “That’s not how you ask for a ride.”

"Yeah, he wasn't very polite." 

I lowered the torch and levelled a glare at them all. They shut up.

“She stared at him, dumbfounded. He just grinned back at her. Almost egging her on, daring her to argue or just drive. Never one to show her fear she growled under her breath, gnashing her teeth, before turning the keys in the ignition and starting the car, jamming it into gear and peeling away down the road. 

Refusing to make the journey a pleasant one she barked out. ‘Just to the nearest town.’ Not wanting to have to make conversation or invite him to start one, she turned up the radio, refusing to talk anymore. ‘Don’t worry Emily,’ she told herself. ‘Just get to the next town and you can drop him off, no big. Then you will be home before you know it.’ Feeling a little calmer after her inner pep talk she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, studying him.

He was handsome enough in that rough and ready kind of way. His hair was a little too long and his nose a little big for her tastes but he was pleasant enough to look at, not that she would be doing much of that, she wasn’t that kind of a girl. An air of danger seemed to roll off of him as he casually leaned back in the seat, his gaze travelling up her body, taking in her legs, up to her chest and finally coming to rest on her face.”

“She shouldn’t trust him,” Gordon said wisely. “I wouldn’t trust him.”

"Don't tell me she fancies him," Kayo groaned. 

“He’s a creep,” Virgil agreed.

“Women always go for the bad boys,” Scott nodded. “They like a man with a wild streak.”

“Emily tried to ignore his scrutiny, blocking out how uncomfortable it made her feel, like a prized piece of meat in the butchers shop window. She tried to concentrate on her driving, focusing on the music coming from the radio, singing along softly to the song that was playing.

The music ended and she heard the familiar jingle of the station’s news program start to play. Always one for keeping up with current affairs she turned the volume up a notch more and listened intently, one never knew what might come up in conversation and she liked to be prepared, especially if she did make it home tonight, as was her plan.

She listened through the usual football results, political scandals and celebrity breakups and was just reaching out to change the channel when the next bulletin, this time national news, stopped her short.

‘The backroads killer has struck again, leaving another mutilated body to be found abandoned on the side of the road, this time in the county of Essex. Police are urging all road users to be aware of the potential danger of driving alone at this …’

The man reached over and flicked the radio off plunging them into silence. His hand was large, yet his fingers were surprisingly slim, it was a strong looking hand. ‘I hate the news, it always depresses me. I would much rather talk to you.’ He swivelled sideways in the seat to look at her again.”

“Noooo,” Gordon yelled. “He’s going to kill her!”

“Get out of the car, get out of the car!” Virgil yelped.

“I’d kick his butt,” Grandma proclaimed, folding her arms.

“Emily barely heard him, paying his words no attention, her mind was racing, going over and over the news report, they had found another body, drivers had been warned, she felt a wave of panic wash over her. She was jolted out of her thoughts by his hand landing on her thigh and squeezing.

‘How about you and me go for a little drink when we get to town humm?’ She slapped at his hand and spun round to face him.

“Don’t get a drink with him!” Grandma ordered, like it would do any good. 

“Get off! What the hell do you think you are doing? How dare you. You have no right to put your hands on me.” For the second time that night she slammed the breaks on and skidded to a halt, stopped again on the deserted country road.

‘Oh come now, you know you want it. You keep looking at me with that look in your eye. I bet you pick up all kinds of men for a quick romp in the back seat.’

“Boy, he’s a nasty one,” Jeff commented. “She’s not done anything wrong, she was just driving home.”

“Emily glared at him, seeing red. Here was yet another man who thought the worst of her, who thought that all they had to do was cock an eyebrow at her and she would come running, putty in their arms. Well he could think again.

Reaching down the side of her seat, her hand closed around the handle. Giving him no indication as to her intentions she lunged at him. She had taken him completely by surprise, he never had a chance to react, to defend himself.

Slashing at him in a blind rage, she stabbed him twice in the stomach before he doubled over in pain and shock, her blade cutting his hands as he lifted them to protect his face.”

“Oh, snap!” Kayo yelped.

“She un-clipped her belt and slipped out of her seat, climbing astride his lap, she entwined her fingers in his hair and wrenched his head back, slicing his throat in one swift move. Panting, she shifted back into her own seat and looked at him. His eyes were glassy, staring at nothing. Blood was beginning to pool in the foot well, soaking into his bag, running down to stain the seat covers.

‘Well crap,’ Emily started the car again and drove on a little further, talking to him the whole time.

‘Just had to do it didn’t you? You were just like the others. Couldn’t just let me get home like I wanted to. Oh no, you had to try it on. You took one look at me and just saw nothing but an attractive body. You didn’t care about my feelings, my brain,’ she sighed deeply. ‘And now I have to steal yet another car and find somewhere to leave you. Bloody fantastic, I’ll never get home at this rate.’ She leaned over and playfully smacked his cheek. Pulling over to the side of the road she stopped the car.

‘You my friend should have left the radio on,’ She pocketed her trusty knife and began to walk. One day, she was sure, things would go right, things would go her way, she would find her way home.”

I sat up straighter, clicking off the torch, looking round at the shocked faces staring back at me.

“So she was the killer?”

“No way!”

“She’s the one that was going around murdering people and dumping them on the side of the road?”

“Never underestimate a woman,” I shrugged, accepting the high five that first Kayo then Grandma offered up.

“That wasn’t scary at all,” Alan huffed. I stuck my tongue out at him.

“I think that’s enough for me tonight,” Jeff declared, getting to his feet. “I’m going to bed, don’t you kids stay up too late.”

“I’m going to head back too,” Grandma added, getting up to follow after Jeff.

We all broke out more beers and hot chocolate and told a few more stories before bed, each trying to outdo the other in the scary stakes until we gave up and called it a night, Gordon and Alan declaring that they hadn't been scared at all and that we had all failed.

As predicted, I’d only been asleep about an hour before I was woken by my protesting bladder. I extracted myself from the mass of sleeping bag, blankets and long Tracy limbs in the form of John who is not the most compact of sleepers and crawled out of the tent.

I had taken the torch with me to bed, knowing I’d need it. Soft snores rang out from the ring of tents, everyone was asleep. I wouldn't bother waking anyone, I could be brave. The moon was glowing quite brighty and the fire hadn’t completely died out so there was enough light to see by. The hangar was just there, not a three minute walk, I could do this. Its not like anyone or anything could get onto the island without anyone knowing and any creepy crawlies would be more scared of me than I should be of them. That's what I told myself anyway but I still felt uncomfortable. 

Determined to do this alone, my need growing quite desperate, I pointed my torch beam at the ground, looking out for crabs that might be lying in wait to nip at my toes as I made my way across the sand.

Everything was quiet, the only sound was that of the sea and the insects in the greenery around us. It was actually quite eerie, I wasn't used to such silence, almost always surrounded by Tracys that came in two volumes, noisy or deafening. John was the only quiet one of the bunch and that was debatable when he got annoyed by them.

I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself. It had actually grown quite chilly, especially since I’d just left the warmth of the tent. I was definitely wishing I’d dragged a blanket with me to use as a shawl.

I made it to the hangar and did my business and was soon on my way back.

I quickened my pace, wanting to hurry and get back to bed to warm up and I didn't hear the noise at first. Not until a shadow separated itself from the darkness and stepped out in front of me.

“Gahhh,”I screamed, immediately dropping into the defensive pose that Kayo had drummed into me.

“Well, at least you learnt something,” she muttered.

“You crazy moo! What are you doing out here creeping around in the dark? You almost gave me a heart attack!” I hissed, beyond annoyed.

“What was that?” I heard Alan yelp in the distance.

“Ghost?” Gordon answered. “Do you think the island is actually haunted?”

“No, maybe some prehistoric monster is roaming the caves?”

Kayo slapped her hand over my mouth when I went to call out to tell them it was OK, an evil glint in her eyes.

“I thought they weren’t scared?” she whispered. “Maybe we could have a little fun?”

Oooh, fun sounded good. I nodded. They had pranked me enough times that I was more than ready to turn the tables on them.

Diving into the undergrowth we dragged out some ferns, branches and big palm leaves that had fallen and, with much suppressed giggling, managed a rough and ready monster costume each.

We crept up to their tent, seeing a light on inside and the two boys sitting up in their blankets.

She took one side, I took the other and using a branch we scratched lightly on the canvas. They froze. A light shined out at us. I moved closer so they could see the outline of my disguise.

Kayo did the same on the other side. She looked at me and nodded, holding up three fingers, she slowly counted down. When she got to one we both screamed at the top of our lungs and drummed our hands on the tent. 

The boys screamed too and scrambled. We ducked down behind the tent as they burst through the flap and took off like a rocket towards the house.

Scott stuck his head out of his tent just in time to witness us popping back up and our high five. He grinned, gave us a thumbs up and vanished back inside.

We stripped off our adornments and hid them back in the undergrowth, kicking sand over our footprints before we retired for the night.

I crawled back inside my tent, still giggling to be met by John’s best 'I'm judging you' face.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing,” I answered innocently, dropping down beside him.

He reached out, plucking a leaf from my hair.

“Evidence begs to differ.”

“I blame Kayo.”

“Unfortunately that’s so believable that I can’t think of a valid argument right now,” he yawned, flopping back down. “I knew you’d be nothing but trouble.”

I shrugged and got back under the blankets. “Admit it, without me life would be so much more boring.”

“I admit nothing,” he grumbled, but I could hear the smile in his voice. “Shut up and go back to sleep.”


	78. Day 78

It’s...what day is it now, John? It’s day 78?! How is that even possible?

Day 78 of Isolation on our Island and today she has a headache. We’re all done our best to look after her but it’s not going too well.

John informed us that she was feeling delicate, I didn’t think she was capable of being delicate but I guess you learn something new every day.

He helped her out of the tent and back to the house after she whined and complained that she was too wobbly to make it on her own and after waiting outside the bathroom to make sure she didn't drown in the bath (she insisted that she needed to be clean while John was telling her to get to bed) he tucked her in and was sent on a mission of mercy.

“You all need to try to be quiet today, she’s got a headache,” he informed us.

“You might as well ask Gordon not to breathe,” I told him. It wasn’t going to happen.

“Just try your best,” he sighed and returned to the demanding one to dispense hair strokes and comforting cuddles.

The problems started when Alan took it upon himself to be the overseer of silence, but that took the form of shouting at people to be quiet whenever they dared to make a sound, being louder than they were.

How does she type so much on this tiny screen? I’m going to have to get John to spell check this...

Gordon tried to help by making her a healthy smoothie that would give her lots of vitamins and make her feel better. It made her throw up, making her headache worse.

Virgil did his best to help by playing soothing music through the villa's intercom but that just stopped her sleeping. All in all it wasn’t a good day.

Alan told her that she hadn’t done her update and she tossed her phone at him and told him to get me to do it. So I am…I have no idea what to say.

Oh, Grandma made soup for her. John tipped it out of the window fearing that that would be the thing to finish her off for good, but he forgot that his window is above the glass roof of the villa and Grandma saw the soup land. Virgil jumped in to help and said that he must have left it on the windowsill to cool down and it fell, even though the bowl didn't fall with it. I don’t know if she believed him, but she didn’t complain, just took another bowl up to them. This time he flushed it.

I have helped by writing her update for her. I’m not sure I’ve done a good job of it, but it’s the best you’re going to get today as I’ve just had my orders to go and fetch Alan because he’s trying to sing her to sleep...


	79. Day 79

Day 79 of Isolation on Tracy Island and I’ve finally got my phone back from Scott, he forgot to give it to John and then took it to bed and then slept really late and it was all a bit of a panic. Because you know what it’s like when you can't find your phone, right? Yeah, that was me. Coming out of headache delirium at around 4am, mostly because John accidentally kicked me and woke me up, I reached for my phone to check the time and couldnt find it. Instant fear, instant terro , how would I stay connected to the world of out? How could I survive being stuck here with these idiots without being able to talk to sane people that don’t think that having a pie eating contest as a midnight snack is a fine thing to do (Yes, Scott, I’m looking at you).

Phone was nowhere to be seen. I snuck out of bed, headache almost gone and totally unable to sleep any longer after napping almost constantly all day yesterday, and searched John’s side of the bed. No phone. His was there but mine wasn’t. I checked his pockets, unearthing two hairbands, a box of tic tacs, a random piece of something that had a microchip in it, his favorite pen, a comb, a fish hook(?) and a screwed up piece of paper that said ‘Kick me’ on it. No phone. 

“Coffee, I need coffee,” I muttered.

“Huh? Wha?” John half sat up, paused and then flopped back down, going straight back to sleep. I guess he wasn't getting up any time soon. Being back on the Island for so long had actually gotten him into something that was vaguely like a normal person's sleep pattern, in the fact that he was actually getting more than three hours a night. It was like his body was thoroughly enjoying the rest and was making the most of it meaning that when he was asleep he stayed that way, a rarity for him since he was so used to listening out for alerts and was usually an extremely light sleeper. We just left him to sleep for as long as he needed.

I tiptoed out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind me and made my way to the kitchen to grab myself some apple juice and a cup of coffee, taking it with me to the lounge.

I stopped in the doorway and actually had to ask myself if I was still asleep, was I dreaming? Why was there an extremely large pizza on the couch? I sniffed the coffee then sipped it. Hot, strong, wet...yep, I was definitely awake and this was definitely coffee. I took a few steps closer and almost jumped out of my skin when the pizza moved, unrolling itself to reveal Gordon.

“Why the heck are you even here?” I had to ask.

He sat up and lifted the corner of his pizza blanket, moving his legs so I could sit beside him.

“You OK?” I settled in next to him, allowing him to steal some of my apple juice while I tucked the blanket over us.

He shrugged, going for my coffee next.

“Did I wake you up?” I asked.

“No, I couldn’t sleep so I got up.”

“And brought a pizza with you?” I stroked the soft blanket. “Where did you even get this, anyway?” 

“I saw it advertised on holobook and thought it might be fun.”

I nodded, it was certainly that. I gently bumped his shoulder with my own.

“Why couldn’t you sleep?”

“Just had a lot on my mind I guess. None of us thought that this whole lockdown thing would last so long and it’s starting to get to me.”

“Want to talk about it? Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No, not really.”

I frowned, this wasn't like our Gordon, he was usually so cheerful, being this quiet and withdrawn wasn’t like him. I nudged him again.

“How about we do something together today, whatever you want.”

“Seriously?” he didn’t look like he believed me. “Anything I want?”

“Yep, anything and I promise I won’t say no.”

He grinned evilly and I suddenly had the worst feeling that I was going to regret this.

“OK, you’re on.”

***

“She’s gonna die out there,” Scott told John a few hours later as they all sat in a row on the beach, watching as Gordon tried to explain to me the basics of how to water ski and I was seriously debating if I needed to take out a life insurance policy to makes sure my house plants were taken care of.

“All you have to do is relax back on your heels, bum on the board, arms down low and let the boat do most of the work. I’m gonna go first so you can see how it’s done.”

“And I’m just supposed to trust Scott not to gun the boat and drown me?”

“Hey! I resent that! I can go slowly if I want to!” he yelled back, overhearing my question.

“Maybe I should drive,” Virgil suggested.

“Yeah, maybe he should,” I agreed. I was seriously regretting this decision. Of all the stupid choices I’d made recently this had to top the list.

“No, I got this,” Scott initiated, climbing into the boat.

“He don’t got this,” Alan muttered, but I tried hard to ignore him.

Gordon made it look easy, as all of them did with 98.7% of everything they did. They did things effortlessly, like it was as natural as breathing. They all had the poise, the balance, the confidence and the upper body strength to do almost anything. Me...not so much.

I tried to follow his instructions, I tried to sit back, relax and keep leaning back as the boat took off, letting it take me, but those instructions didn’t count on the speed freak that was Scott being at the wheel.

“You said you’d go slowly!” I yelled as I struggled to lift my head out of the water, having been yanked forward and deposited face first in the sea.

“That was slow!” he yelled back.

“I meant normal people slow! My kind of slow, not Tracy slow!”

“Is there actually another kind of slow?” Alan asked Virgil, who shrugged, wise boy wasn't getting involved.

I tried four more times, each more disastrous than the others. I went backwards, I tipped sideways, I did what amounted to a summersault and almost knocked myself out with the edge of my board. Headache, welcome back , I can’t lie and say I missed you.

“No! I give up! I am not here for your entertainment!” I screamed at them as they all fell about laughing, Alan almost toppling out of the boat to join me. 

I flapped my way over to them, towing myself in on the line, hand over hand as I inched my way closer.

“When I eventually get there you had better all be ready to apologise for laughing at me!” I warned them. 

I got closer, slowly but surely and reached for the boat. It shot forward a few paces. 

“Very funny, numb nut!” I yelled at Scott who was obviously in one of his evil moods.

John reached out a hand for me and I grabbed on tight. I had a split second to make my decision. I yanked hard, pulling him out of the boat and into the water with an almighty splash.

He spluttered and flailed as he hit the water and vanished for a second before he bobbed back up. 

Gordon burst out laughing, finally smiling properly for the first time that day.

John got back in the boat with minimal scowling for him, though he did flick water in my face again, which I deserved.

“Plan B,” Gordon decided, finally sobering enough to talk. His Plan B took the form of a jet ski that he rode beside the boat while he yelled instructions at me.

It took us a few more goes but I eventually managed to get to my feet and stay upright for more than thirty seconds, which we were counting as a win. I gave up my board to Alan and Gordon and dragged myself into the boat, wrapped myself up in a massive towel and called it a day.

I can’t say that I had fun, but I hadn’t done it for me. Sometimes even the most cheerful and happy of us need a little helping hand, they need someone to check on them, to care about them and go out of their way to make them smile. And that’s what you do for family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Little announcement. I've loved doing these, but it's been a long time and I'm finding it harder to come up with ideas and finding that it's becoming a chore to write them every day, and it's taking up all my time meaning that my writing time and drawing time is suffering. That's not to say I'm giving up on theses, my aim is to keep going every day until day 100 and after that, I'll post some as and when I am inspired to do so and when I get an idea.
> 
> When I started these I didn't know how long lockdown would last but I didn't think it would still be going now. I hope I've brought a little joy with these updates, which was always the intention.
> 
> As I said, I won't be stopping completely, if I think fo something or I'm inspired then I'll write it, but I need a break, I've written over 80k so far, which is a good sized novel. Hope you all understand


	80. Day 80

Day 80 of Isolation on Tracy Island and it started with Alan breaking into the bedroom while we were still asleep. I woke to him rummaging around in the bedside drawer.

“Dude? Whatcha doin’?” I mumbled, it was far too early, I was far too snuggly warm and getting up was in no way on my radar for at least another few hours.

“Oh, I just wanted to borrow your contact lens solution.”

“Huh?” I groaned, having kinda half dozed off again while he had continued to search through the drawer. “What lens solution?”

“That stuff you got with those coloured lenses you wore at halloween.”

I prised one eye open again and poked the sleepy hamster in my brain that had fallen off the wheel and was far too lazy to get up again.

“Oh...that…” where was it? Where did I even put it? I tried to mentally rewind more than eight months… it wasn't easy. Hell, without this diary I wouldn’t even know what day of the week we were on or what I did two days ago…come to think of it, what did I do two days ago? 

Fingers snapped in front of my face, making me jump.

“Did you drift?” 

“Yeah, sorry...lens stuff...it’s in the…” where was it? I could picture it…”drinks cabinet in the lounge!” I finished triumphantly, that was it. We’d had a small party and I’d taken the lenses out half way through as they had made my eyes itch and I’d stashed them in the first place I had come across, which just so happened to be the place where I was returning to the most that night. I blame Scott, I always blame Scott, if there is ever a drinking game happening or karaoke is started, he’ll be there.

“Alan, I…where did he go?” The drawer was still open and the bedroom door was ajar, but at least it was quiet again. I yawned so wide I almost turned my face inside out and curled back up against the warm body next to me and closed my eyes…

Coffee...I smell...delicious black gold...I sat up a little without even opening my eyes and reached for the mug, taking a sip before I felt able to face the world.

Perfect. Milky, silky, smooth, sweet perfection in a mug. I opened my eyes to see that he'd put it in one of my favourite mugs, the black one shaped like a cauldron that said "witch's brew" on the side. The paleness of the milky latte was broken up by a swirl of coffee and caramel syrup that floated peacefully on the surface like a miniature galaxy. Top ten reason to marry a guy, he makes the most amazing coffee, even if he doesn't do it very often. 

“Gods that's good, thank you, I so needed this.” I sipped again then put the mug down on the bedside table, I wanted to savour this...why was that drawer open and all my stuff messed up? Not that I was the tidiest person in the world but I know it wasn't that bad. My sluggish brain managed to kick up an image of the blond baby… “Did I dream Alan coming in at stupid o’clock this morning looking for something?”

“Hmm?” John stopped rummaging in the wardrobe to look at me. “I don’t know, I don’t remember anything after we started watching that film with the puppets in it.”

“They are Muppets, you heathen and I have no idea how you could fall asleep watching that, it’s amazing.” 

“Because it was after two and I was tired?”

“Pathetic excuse. Anyway, back to the original question, did I dream Alan? What did he want?”

“Again, I don’t know, you’ll have to find him and ask.”

“Mm,” I agreed, picking up my coffee again. “I’ll go in a minute, it can’t be that urgent.”

An hour later I was actually up, showered, dressed and had even had breakfast, that’s how organized I was. OK, so it was technically after lunchtime but that's beside the point. I tracked the small one down to Virgil’s studio, which is never, ever a good thing. No one is allowed in there without permission on pain of death. I caught him just as he came out with a bottle of glue in his hands. 

“What are you up to, Squirt?”

“Nothing!” Unfortunately he said that at the same time as he hastily tucked the glue behind his back.

“Nope, not falling for it. What’s going on?"

"Nothing!" he insisted again. 

"I can see you hiding something behind your back." 

“OK,” he sighed. “ But promise you won’t get mad?”

“What did you break? Because that’s only craft glue for paper, it won't fix broken things.”

“I know that! And I didn’t break anything, you always think the worst of me.”

“Sweetie, I don’t think that, I just know you.”

He opened his mouth to argue but then shut it again. 

“OK, that’s fair," he admitted 

“So why would I get mad if you didn’t break anything? Not that I’d get mad if you had broken anything as I’m sure it would have been an accident.”

“Thank you for your faith in me.”

“So, what are you doing?”

“Well, I was bored-”

“Understandable.”

“And I started looking around the internet and I kinda fell into a search hole-”

“Also understandable, I’ve been there myself far too many times to count.”

“Anyways, I found this post about things that kids did in the early two thousands and one of them was to make slime. Apparently everyone was obsessed with it.”

“Really? Slime?” I found that quite hard to believe.

“Yeah, there were even whole video channels dedicated to making it and playing with it.”

“People actually wanted to watch videos of people playing with slime? That’s disgusting.”

“No, it’s not like, super sticky slime, but more of a cool slime.”

“That makes zero sense, little dude.”

“I don’t understand it either, but it seemed too cool to not at least try, you know?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I get that, I’ve done many things that seemed too cool not to.”

“Really? Like what?”

“I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“It’s not anything gross with my brother, is it?”

I gave him that look that says all and nothing, it’s always fun to keep them wondering just what the heck I even meant, the puzzlement on their faces is priceless. 

“Wanna make slime with me?”

“Sure,” I shrugged. “How bad can it be?”

***

“So you pour the glue in the bowl,” Alan instructed.

“Done that, what's next?”

“Then you add a… what does that symbol mean?” 

I glanced at his phone. “Tablespoon.”

“One tablespoon of baking soda.” We both dumped that in the glue.

“A couple of drops of food colouring.” We both added green, him because he wanted to make fake snot, me because I wanted it to look like Slimer had been visiting.

“Now we add one or two tablespoons of the contact lens solution and mix.”

“Better add just one first,” I suggested, “if it’s anything like baking it's always better to start with less and add more.”

“Yeah, it says the more you add the sloppier it gets.”

We dumped in a spoonful each and mixed...and mixed...and mixed. I added a little more but wanted more of a thick consistency, he added a whole tablespoon more as he wanted ‘the whole slime experience’.

“No we have to knead it,” he instructed me. 

“O...K” I didn't like the sound of that. I thought I'd just be mixing, not getting my hands in it. I poked the goo with a finger. “It’s cold!”

Alan, being Alan, just dived right in, sticking both hands in the bowl.

“Coool,” he grinned, squishing the gooey mixture so that it oozed out from between his fingers. “This is so weird.”

I was a little more delicate. I pushed my finger in knuckle deep and felt around. I don’t know what for or what I hoped to achieve. It was like poking barely set jelly, it left a bit of a dent and closed over my finger like it was sucking it in. “Ewwww.”

“This is great!”

“I don’t like it.” I wiggled my finger around in the slop then withdrew it, feeling the stringy strands stick to my skin. “Ewwww.”

“I love it!”

“You would, you gross little munchkin.”

“You gotta get your whole hand in there, don’t be shy.” He slapped his sticky hand down on top of mine, smaming it into the ick. I screamed. It was disgusting.

“You horrible little worm!”

“Wiggle your fingers!”

“No!”

“Do it!”

“No!”

“Dare you.”

“Dammit.” I wiggled and shuddered in revulsion. “It’s horrible.”

Alan was kneading his like he was making bread, putting in far more effort than he had that time we made pizza dough. I glanced into his bowl and yes, it was looking far better than mine was. 

“Urghh I’m gonna have to do it, aren't I?” I took a deep breath and stuck both hands into the bowl. “Yuck, yuck yuck, yuck, yuck,” I chanted as I smacked and punched at the mess. Slowly but surely, it came together, becoming far less sticky and turning into a silky smooth substance that, I hated to admit, was actually quite satisfying to play with.

“You’re having fun, aren't you?” Alan grinned.

“I admit nothing,” I sniffed, though he was right and he knew it. I picked up the mess and pushed the bowl aside. 

If he was treating it like dough, so would I. I dumped it on the counter and began to knuckle it, pulling and stretching with my hands, just as I would to add air to bread. Suddenly seized by the unholy urge to whip I, I grabbed hold of one end and flung my hand back, whipping it forwards to stretch out the slime and splat against the counter. OK, that was actually pretty cool. 

“I wonder if this bounces?” I balled it up again and dropped it onto the counter top where it landed with a wet splat, flattening into a puddle.

“Coooool,” Alan whistled, doing the same to his, although his was a lot sloppier and spread across the counter. Mine looked more like a fried egg, his was like spilt juice.

“Oops,” he tried to pick it up but it was far too slippery, sliding between his fingers and plopping out of his hand. 

I helped by grabbing a spatula from the utensils pot and trying to pick it up like it was a pancake. It didn't work. Strings of goo slid between the slats of the spatula and dripped downwards. 

“Grab the bowl!” I yelped and he held it underneath to catch the run off. I scraped the spatula against the side of the bowl and peeled the last, stubborn bits off and flicked them into the bowl along with the rest.

“What are we actually going to do with this stuff?” I asked him. 

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ve got plans,” he grinned. 

“I don’t like the sound of that,” I groaned. “Just please, keep me and John out of it, he doesn’t need the extra stress, he already has to put up with me.”

***

I was sensible with my weird goo, I added a few drops of essential oil having found, much to my amazement, that it actually was quite relaxing to squish it and play with it. I found myself taking it out of it’s tub frequently that evening while we watched a movie, smoothing out the cool jelly, kneading it in my palm and squeezing it until it smushed in between my fingers. The soothing scent of lavender wafting up to fill my nose. 

“OK,” John said after watching me for quarter of an hour. “I’ll bite, what do you have there?”

“Slime, I made it with Alan,” I held out my hand and dropped the ball of eww into his palm.

The look of disgust on his face was everything.

“Squish it,” I instructed.

“Squish it?”

“Yeah, like this,” I plonked my hand down on top of his and mashed the goo between our fingers.

“That is the most revolting thing I’ve ever felt in my life.”

I pulled my hand away from his, the slime clinging desperately for a few seconds, stretching between our hands before it gave way and boinged back into one mass in his palm. 

"I don't like it," he poked it with one finger. 

“It’s not that bad, it’s actually quite ni-”

A pained yelp and then a bellow that sounded like an enraged bull echoed around the villa. 

“That sounded like Scott,” I gasped, sitting up.

Scott skidded into the lounge, face like thunder, naked apart from a towel wrapped around his waist.

“What the hell happened?” I asked in shock. “What happened to your head?” I got up to look closer, seeing that a red bump was rapidly forming between his eyebrows.

“I was going to take a shower, but no water came out. I turned the water up higher and something green oozed out of the holes and then the whole shower head popped off and clonked me on the head.”

I bit my lip, trying hard not to laugh.

“What do you have there?” Scotts eyes narrowed, zeroing in on John’s hand where he still held the slime. 

“Run!” I yelped and John, pulling on his old track and field days, leapt off the couch and ran for the door, grabbing my hand as he went and towing me after him. It was safer to hide in the bedroom.

Apparently Scott wasn’t the only victim of the slime pranks. Alan had gotten rather creative. He had sneezed goo on Gordon and had mixed up a new batch that included peas and chopped up carrots and was a lovely yellow colour which he had dropped on the floor of Two’s cockpit at Virgil’s feet after making a series of increasingly violent retching noises. Jeff has yet to discover that there is blue slime in the soap dispenser in his bathroom. I dread to think where else it’s going to turn up. But what I do know is that Alan had better avoid Scott for the next few days, because that’s going to leave a bruise.


	81. Day 81

Day 81 of Isolation on Tracy Island and we are all scarred for life. And it’s all Grandma’s fault.

We were alerted to the fact that something was going on when we heard music coming from the lounge. We could hear her singing along and she seemed to be really vibing.

Stupidly we thought it might be nice to share something with her that she was obviously enjoying. We will never make that mistake again. I should have learnt after the soap opera incident. 

We trooped into the lounge half way through a song and the first thing we saw on the holoprojector was a woman in a black dress singing. But that wasn't the strange thing...

“Is that a cat?” Gordon asked. “And is he wearing a fancy suit?”

“She’s singing and dancing with a cartoon cat?” Scott frowned.

“Wait, is she dating the cat?” Virgil wanted to know.

We watched as the woman sang with the cat about how opposites attract.

“Well, they are definitely opposites,” John goggled. “But I’m worried about the attraction side of things.”

“That cat’s got some serious moves!” I grinned, trying to copy the dance and failing miserably.

The music video ended and another started.

“Oh, I love this one,” Grandma squealed excitedly. “I remember my mother playing these on the radio when I was a little girl.”

“Hey, I think I know this one too! My mum was the same, playing all the old songs when I was young.” I joined in, humming the first few bars. That was as far as I got.

EVERY NOW AND THEN I GET A LITTLE BIT LONELY AND YOU’RE NEVER COMING ROUND.

“Where is she?” Alan asked.

“Why are there doves?” Scott wondered.

“It’s full moon,” I chipped in. “That's never a good sign.”

“Her hair is huge!” Kayo whistled. “It’s like she put a poodle on her head.”

EVERY NOW AND THEN I GET A LITTLE BIT TERRIFIED AND THEN I SEE THE LOOK IN YOUR EYES

“What's with his eyes!” Alan screamed as the young boy on the screen turned to face the camera, his eyes glowing from within. And when I say glowing I don't just mean in a cute, beautiful way, I mean that he looked like when you pull the head off a doll and stick a torch up in there. Dang was that weird.

“Don't go down there, it's haunted,” Scott warned the woman in the floaty white dress who was running down a dark hallway in the creepy old mansion she was apparently staying in. “It’s always haunted in the movies.”

“He's got wings now?” Virgil asked.

“Gordo, swimmers!” Alan yelled.

“Why are there ninjas?” Gordon asked, distracted from the swimmers by the sudden appearance of masked ninjas bouncing here and there for no apparent reason.

“What kind of school is this?” John asked out loud, clearly more confused than he'd ever been in his life before and he'd sat through drunk conversations with me. 

“Oh, that fancy dinner just got all kinds of creepy,” I gasped.

Grandma was oblivious to our horror, or she was enjoying adding to it by singing along really loudly and dramatically, sweeping her arms around like the big haired harpy on the screen. We ignored her as best we could, our eyes riveted on the screen that was traumatising us further by the second.

“Are they fencing now?”

“Someone let the circus in, there’s acrobats everywhere.”

“Her dress is so white, I’d never be able to keep that clean.”

“Oh look, the cool dudes have arrived and they are getting down to some moves on the stairs.”

“Apparently she really needs that guy…”

“Why do they not have shirts on? We wouldn't be able to wear that in our high school.”

"I know, what's the point of shoulder pads but no shirts?" 

“Her hair is cushioning her brain, that’s why she can keep bashing against walls like that.”

“Is he naked?”

“Yep, wet and naked.”

“Yes, run away, love, run away!”

“There's glitter in his face mask, that’s weird.”

“That’s not the only thing that’s weird about this whole situation.”

“John, they have a situation.”

“What? They all have the eyes!”

“Ahhh he's flying, get away! Run while you still can!”

“Don't kick like that! That's ridiculous, you’ll poke someone's eye out with your big toe!”

“Well, he’s...bendy.”

AND WE'LL ONLY BE MAKING IT RIGHT   
'CAUSE WE'LL NEVER BE WRONG 

“You'll never be wrong? Who are you trying to kid? This whole thing is wrong!”

“Are they related to torchy?”

“They dance as bad as Alan.”

“Hey, cheap shot!”

“Don’t stroke her with your wings! That’s so cringey.”

ONCE UPON A TIME I WAS FALLING IN LOVE.  
NOW I’M ONLY FALLING APART.

“Wait...is she a teacher?”

“Phew. it was a dream.”

“That doesn’t make it any less creepy, Gordo.”

“Wait...what? What’s going on now?”

THERE’S NOTHING I CAN DO  
A TOTAL ECLIPSE OF THE HEART

“Ewww.” I hid my face against Virgil’s shoulder, far too creeped out to keep watching.

ONCE UPON A TIME THERE WAS LIGHT IN MY LIFE  
BUT NOW THERE’S ONLY LOVE IN THE DARK

“The darkness was better, I promise you,” I mumbled.

NOTHING I CAN SAY  
A TOTAL ECLIPSE OF THE HEART

“Turn around? Freakin’ Run!”

The song ended much to our relief and as one we all prepared to execute a tactical retreat.

“Well, I better go check on that thing.”

“Yeah, Dad wanted me to check it out too.”

“Well, I had better come along to make sure that-”

“Oh no,” Grandma cut in. “You can’t go yet, this next one is one of my favorites.”

We all sank back down, helpless trapped for the foreseeable future.

SOMETIMES I FEEL I'VE GOT TO...RUN AWAY  
I’VE GOT TO...GET AWAY.

“Dude in bed, at least this isn't as weird as the creepy school,” Gordon commented.

“That horoscope is rubbish,” I huffed. “So generic, I’d never put that out, it’s lazy.”

“You've got standards,” Scott patted my shoulder.

“Yes I do!”

“Wait, who's that?” Alan asked.

“Is that a meteor?” Gordon looked at John.

“Not one I’ve ever seen.”

“Gahh,” Alan screamed. “Creepy star people!”

“Why are there always creepy people in these videos?” Scott shuddered.

“John, is that your ex?” Gordon asked slyly.

The glare John threw his way should have, by rights, killed the fishy on the spot.

ONCE I RAN TO YOU  
NOW I RUN FROM YOU

“Yes, run away, that’s sensible.”

“Get away is a good idea.”

“Are they fireballs now?”

“Mystical fire balls,” I nodded.

The dude on the holoprojector had gotten up out of bed, avoiding the weird, floaty star people and was making a break for freedom… No, he was making for the fridge. 

"Yes, drinking more will help this situation," I told him sarcastically. 

"At least he's got jeans on now," Virgil pointed out. 

"Why is that singer looking so pleased with himself?" Kayo asked. 

"And why is he looking down on this and watching? Is he god?" I asked. 

"Are you sure you haven't met them?" Alan asked John. 

"If they touched me I’d throw myself out the airlock," he answered. 

We cringed our way through the rest of the sing, not knowing what to make of it at all. 

"Why are all the music videos so strange?" Scott had to know. 

"I don't know," Grandma admitted. "It's just how they were, I think they wanted to make them memorable." 

"Well I'll certainly not forget that horror in a hurry," John shuddered, spearing Gordon and Alan with a look that promised retribution if they dared ask one more question about his relationships with star people. 

All in all we sat through twelve videos, watching a group of people doing a weird synchronised dance while singing about Prince Charming, another one about spinning someone right round, something about a chameleon and a particularly strange one about Rasputin that John insisted was not historically accurate at all. Honestly I wasn't listening to the words, my attention was locked on the very energetic bloke with the long beard who was dancing like a mad man at the front of the stage. And don't get me started on the strange guys in dungarees that were singing about someone called Eileen. I don't know what was going on but they really seemed to want her to follow them, they kept yelling at her to come on. 

We escaped while Grandma was searching through her phone for some more. The second we got out of the lounge we scattered, every man (and woman) for themselves, our logic being that we had more chance of at least some of us managing to stay lost if we weren't in one big mass. 

If I thought lockdown was sending people crazy… it's got nothing on the 80s.


	82. Day 82

Day 82 of Isolation on Tracy Island and we were all sitting by the pool, enjoying the peace and quiet when it was shattered by Alan who came running past like a whirlwind, screaming his head off.

Scott jolted out of his doze, sitting bolt upright. “Wha? Al? Wass up?”

“Virgil’s dead!”

That got our attention even more than the screaming.

“What?” John was on his feet in an instant and caught Alan by the shoulder as he started another lap of the poolside, racing back past us in the opposite direction. “Alan, just stop a second and tell us what’s wrong?”

Alan was panting, trying to catch his breath. “Virg...he...hangar...floor...dead!” he huffed, doubling over, hands on his knees as he struggled to suck air into his lungs.

Scott shot John a look and the two of them took off at a run, leaving me to drag Alan along behind them.

We skidded to a halt in the hangar, taking in the scene before us. Virgil was indeed laying flat out on the floor, eyes closed, not moving, covered in something dark and red…

“Virgil!” Scott yelled, rushing over, John following.

“I poked him already!” Alan told them. “I kicked him too.”

“You kicked him?” I facepalmed so hard I almost knocked myself out. “You thought your brother was dead so your answer to that was to poke him and kick him!”

“Well, I didn’t want to touch him if he was dead, that’s gross.”

“Virgil!”

“Will you guys shut up! I’m not dead but I wish I was so just leave me here to die in peace, will you?”

“Oh, thank God,” Scott groaned. “What happened? Why are you covered in...whatever that is?”

“It’s paint,” Virgil answered, still not moving. “I was touching up the paintwork on the left engine and I turned awkwardly and fell.”

“Anything broken?” Scott immediately went into fix it mode.

“No, not that I can tell.”

“Then why are you still on the floor?”

“And more importantly, why didn't you stop Alan from kicking you?" I asked.

“Because I can’t move.”

“What? John, get the med-scanner, now!”

“No! I don’t need that. I’m just going to stay here for a while, OK? It’s actually quite comfy.”

“Virgil, you just said you can’t move, in medical circles that’s generally considered to be a bad thing,” John pointed out.

Virgil nodded and lifted his head from the floor. “OK, I’m gonna try…” he attempted to sit up, stopping midway, a pained groan escaping him.

“Are you alright?” I asked, kneeling down beside him, avoiding the majority of the paint.

“Virg, you just said you weren’t hurt when you fell!” Scott yelled.

“I wasn’t,”Virgil insisted, though he wouldn't look at us.

“Virgil…” Scott’s tone dared him to continue to lie.

“I may have hurt my back before I fell and now I can’t move at all, it’s seized up.”

“You made me think you were dead because you hurt your back like an old man?” Alan yelled, kicking Virgil’s leg again.

“Hey! Stop kicking me!”

“Urghh, boys…” I groaned, rolling my eyes so far back I think I saw my brain, it’s larger than I expected, maybe there’s hope for me yet.

I supervised the lifting and extraction of the Virg from the hangar floor and the carrying of said brother, with much groaning all around, Virgil from the pain and the boys from the weight of carrying their chonky ass brother.

Scott and John were charged with getting him into the bathroom to wash the paint off him. I waited outside just in case they needed help, not that there was much I could do. I sat on his bed, fished my phone out of my pocket and prepared for a boring wait. I could not have been more wrong.

“At least try to stand on your own!”

“I can’t.”

“Just duck your head a little so I can get your vest off.”

“I can’t bend, John!”

“FIne, I’ll cut it off you.” 

“You will cut my flannel over my cold, dead body!”

“You already died once today, congratulations, now shut up and hold still.”

“I am not touching the jeans, you’re on your own there.”

“Do you guys need a hand?” I called out.

“NO!” all three choroused at once.

I shrugged, I was only trying to be helpful.

“It’s no good, I can’t get them down.”

“Scott, you’re the oldest, you do it.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Can we not argue about who is going to pull my pants down?”

“Fine, I’ll do it!”

I heard a yank and the sound of someone stumbling and another pained grunt from Virgil. Everything was silent for a moment or two and I actually worried that one of them might have accidentally killed the other but then I heard the shower turn on.

“I’m turning around now…”

“I don’t care, I’m covering my eyes because neither front or back is a view I want embedded in my memory.”

I sniggered to myself, my poor boy did not sound happy to be in there.

“Virg, be careful, hold on to something,” I heard Scott warn.

“Not me!” John yelped and I heard another scuffle followed by a horrified yell. “Get that away from me!”

The door crashed open and I heard Virgil gasp in shock before Scott slammed the door closed.

“I’m not going back in there,” John declared. “He’s all…” he waved a hand vaguely that was obviously supposed to represent something but I have no idea what. “I don’t even want to think about it,” he finished, shuddering in horror.

“Aww, poor love,” I opened my arms and he collapsed forward, his forehead hitting my shoulder with a clunk.

“How’s he doing?” 

“His back isn’t bending at all, so he’s shuffling around like he’s ninety years old, I expect he’ll soon be yelling at Alan to get off the lawn,” his voice was muffled against my shoulder. I couldn't help but laugh, John always managed to say the funniest things with total deadpan humour.

I patted his back and let go. “You stay here and help if needed, I’m gonna go and get him my back stretcher, that might help.”

***

By the time I returned with my back stretcher, a curved piece of hard plastic that was padded to fit the bend of your lower back and can help release tension in your back muscles, Virgil was flat out on his bed and still groaning pathetically.

I laid the stretcher on the floor and drafted in reinforcements.

“Help me get him up and on the floor,” I instructed.

They didn't look too impressed with the idea but stepped up in the end.

With much huffing, puffing and swearing we managed to roll Virgil off the bed and onto his knees (I put a pillow down for him to land on) and then got him to roll onto his butt until he was sitting up.

I got John to make sure the stretcher was in place and then came the hard part.

“You’re gonna have to straddle him,” I told Scott.

“What? No! Why?”

“No one is straddling me!”

“Yes, they are, because you need to keep your arms straight as well as your back and you need to be lowered slowly,” I answered.

“I can lower myself, thank you very much.”

“Go on then.”

“Now?”

“Yep,” my hands went to my hips in the universally known ‘don’t test me, boy’ gesture.

“I don’t feel like it right now, I’ll do it later.”

“You’ll do it right now, Mr Tracy, now lay the hell down!” I was fast losing patience with these idiots today. Honestly, why can’t they be more like girls? We don’t care about anything, girls will get changed in the same room as someone they have known for five minutes because they can’t be bothered to stop chatting. Boys just make such a big deal out of everything.

“Fine, I’ll lay down.”

He lowered about half an inch before his face creased in pain and he began to sweat. I watched him grit his teeth and lean back a little further, his arms straight out in front of him like Dracula rising from his coffin.

“Dude, just give in.”

“Never!”

He squeaked out another inch, his shoulders shaking, stomach twitching as he tried to bully his abs into keeping him stable.

“Core strength, core strength,” I heard him chant.

“Urghh, you’re all so stubborn,” I stepped over him, straddling his legs and grabbed his hands. “Lean back, I got you.”

Slowly, carefully, edging forward one step at a time, I lowered him backwards. 

“Keep your arms straight,” I reminded him as his lower spine hit the stretcher. He hovered there, arms stuck out straight in the air. 

“What’s going on?” Gordon and Alan asked, picking the worst moment to wander in, stopping in their tracks to find me standing over their brother while Scott and John watched from their spot on the bed.

“I’m helping.”

“With a torture device?” Gordon didn’t sound convinced.

“Shh you!” I ordered.

I had reached Virgil’s chest and couldn't go further with his arms in the way so had to do a quick move, keeping his arms in place with one hand and twisting so I could move in front of them, stepping over his chest. I was very grateful I'd chosen to wear leggings this morning and so was Virgil. 

“OK, going backwards,” I lowered him a bit further, holding his not inconsiderable upper bulk up by his arms, now slightly worried about the state of my own back after hefting this hulk around. I got his back against the back stretcher and checked that his spine was lined up properly.

“OK, do you trust me?”

“Not when you ask that!”

I flicked his forehead. “Tough, I’m doing it anyway. Deep breath.”

“What? Why? What are you do-” I stepped back and lowered his arms, bringing them down to the floor above his head.

His back let out a loud crack in protest, the sound echoing around the room like a gunshot. Virgil yelped, the other boys cringed.

“You just broke his back!” Alan gasped. I gave him a look that said I’d break him next. He wisely shut up.

“Don’t be a baby,” I told Virgil and pushed down on his shoulders. His back cracked again and he groaned.

“There, better?” I let go of his arms and let him relax a little more. His back popped one more time and this time it was more of a moan of relief than a groan of pain that escapes him. He gave an experimental wiggle and looked surprised when he could actually move.

I moved round to his front again and helped him sit up.

“That actually does feel better,” he acknowledged. He managed to lower himself back down all by himself and stretched out, his tight muscles and ligaments easing with the pressure.

“I want to try that,” Scott announced, I couldn't blame him, it's really quite satisfying. We helped Virgil off the floor, and while he took an experimental lap around his room, still a little slow and shuffly but no longer shambling like he'd just risen from the dead and wanted to eat our brains (not that he’d find much nourishment in this room) Scott got down on the floor. 

Everyone but John (he'd used it before) tried out my back stretcher. Gordon and Scott declared that they needed one but Alan didn’t like it. 

“That’s because you’re too young to have ever had back ache,” I told him. “You don’t know what it’s like to wake up and feel like your back won't bend the right way.”

I glanced down at the floor to find Scott still stretched out, eyes closed, so relaxed I think I actually heard him snore. 

“Get up,” I nudged him with my foot. “I’m leaving that for Virgil to use for the next few days.”

Scott grumbled but did get up, casting a longing glance at my back stretcher on the floor.

“I’ll come back for you,” he promised it. I rolled my eyes.

“Could you all get out of my room now?” Virgil asked, eyeing his bed longingly. 

I grabbed the boys by the shoulders and propelled them out the door with the promise of cooking before Grandma got there.

I swear, these boys need a minder, I can’t leave them alone for a second.

The last sound we heard was the heavy thud of Virgil landing on his bed. I doubt very much we'll see him for the foreseeable future, I guess he's getting dinner delivered today.


	83. Day 83

Day 83 of Isolation on Tracy Island and our poor Virgil is still feeling a little tender . His back is a lot better but he’s still having to be careful how he’s sitting and so we’ve banned him from doing anything remotely strenuous. For Virg, this is hard. He’s usually quite happy to chill out for a few hours and do nothing but that’s when it's on his terms, not when he’s been ordered to stay put. Then he needs some bribery.

“OK,” I started, “what do you want? What’s gonna get you to stay put?”

He thought about it for a moment or two and then he dropped his bombshell.

“Couch day. If I have to stay put, so do you all.”

I glanced around at everyone else who nodded. They could do that.

“On one condition,” Virgil threw in. “You know those special things we ordered online a few weeks ago and were saving for Christmas?”

My mouth dropped in shock. “Oh, ohmigods! Are they here? Did they arrive?”

He nodded, grinning evilly. “Picked them up last supply run and hid them in my wardrobe.”

“Yessss! Can I go get them?”

He nodded again.

“Woohoo!” I ran off like I had Thunderbird Three up my butt.

“Why do I get the feeling that we’re going to hate this?” I heard John sigh as I left the room.

***

“I feel ridiculous,” John groaned, looking down at his outfit in obvious disgust.

“Nooo,” I assured him. “You look gorgeous!”

“Well I love mine!” Alan grinned, spinning around to look at his reflection in the window.

“Me too,” Gordon agreed, checking out his backside in another window. “Look at my little fin!”

“Mines a tad too short,” Scott pointed down where he was showing a good six inches of ankle and hairy calf below the cuffs.

“Mines so comfy,” Virgil moaned, snuggling deeper into the warm material.

“Mines actually kind of cool,” Kayo admitted. She looked as awesome as always, curled up like a cat in one of Alan’s bucket seats, her black and silver onesie fitted her like a glove and she was clearly revelling in the soft warmth it provided.

“I’m not putting the hood up,” John stated, thumping down on the couch and crossing his arms in protest.

“Oh come on, it’s so cosy,” Alan wheedled, having already tugged up the hood of his red onesie, the pointy top forming the nose cone of his Thunderbird.

Virgil and I had been rather bored, it had been late and we had stumbled across a fan site that had made its own International Rescue merchandise. A few clicks later and we had purchased one of every onesie they possessed and then found me a cute little halloween bat onesie so I could join in. I loved it and was currently flapping my wings excitedly.

Virgil's was, of course, big and green, the yellow trim and red cuffs looked great on him. His hood was rounded like Two’s nose and his arms had flaps of material that attached down to his sides to give him wings. The large lettering of Thunderbird Two straight down his sides completed the look.

Gordon’s was bright yellow with a red stripe around the middle and midway up his calves and he had a fin that started halfway down his back and reached right down to his butt, flaring out wider the lower it got. His also said Thunderbird Four down the sides.

Alan’s had a grey striped strip around his belly and back, a white collar and white cuffs and was just the cutest thing ever with Thunderbird Three running down his chest in white and with a white three on each ankle.

Scott’s was simply glorious, his hood sported a pointy red cone, two dark grey stripes circled his upper chest and back and his arms also had wings like Virgil’s. The lower legs (which was more just below the knee for him) were blue and the ankles and cuffs were the same dark grey as the stripes on his chest. Thunderbird One was written in white on his chest and he looked amazing. Clearly he thought so too if the poses he was striking were any indication.

John’s was a little more elaborate than the other boys and honestly I don’t completely blame him for his reaction. His hood had a soft, bendy circle hovering above it like a weird angel halo, made to represent Five’s gravity ring and was grey on the outside and red on the inside, which also had International Rescue written on it in white letters. His chest area was a puffy ball where the monitoring station would be, making him look like he had suddenly developed a massive beer belly. The legs were yellow and his ankles (it was a little short on him too) had two stiff panels that stuck out. I thought they were adorable, he hated them with the fiery passion of a thousand suns. 

“Stop being so grumpy,” I told him, dropping down next to him and attempting to snuggle the bad mood out of him as we all prepared to watch Virgil’s movie of choice, La La Land, another musical but this was his day so we weren’t going to complain.

Drinks were gathered, snacks were shared out and everyone got comfy as the movie started. Surprisingly enough it wasn’t one that I’d watched before and I found it quite enjoyable although Alan and Gordon were clearly not impressed, come to think of it, neither were Kayo and Scott. 

As soon as the movie ended all four of them made their escape, leaving John and I to keep Virgil company.

“This was not part of the deal,” Virgil yelled after them, they ignored him. “You have to at least keep your onesies on!” he ordered.

“Sorry about them,” I said, getting up to fetch him another drink and at his request, his sketchbook and pencils.”You just can’t trust family.”

“What am I, invisible?” John asked, batting at one side of the gravity ring that kept getting in his way.

“No, you’re awesome,” I answered.

“Suck up,” Virgil laughed, then winced when his back twinged.

“Will you sit still!” I ordered, plumping his pillow and settling him back. 

“Is she always this bossy?”

“Hard to imagine, given how quiet she usually is, but yes,” John answered dryly, picking up his abandoned book. I smacked his shoulder in retaliation but still used him as a pillow as I located the magazine I’d been reading and went back to the article about vampires in Scotland. 

We chilled quietly for around half an hour before a voice broke the silence.

“John, I’m bored.”

“You don’t get bored, EOS,” he replied, glancing over at her portable drive which he’d left on the coffee table. “At least you’re not supposed to.”

“It feels like I am. You told me that when someone has nothing left to do they get bored, that’s why you keep sending Alan out to collect space debris.”

Virgil sniggered.

“I have finished all the tasks you set for me and I have downloaded today’s statistics to your comm so now, I believe, I am bored.”

EOS had been brilliant in keeping Five running smoothly in between John’s daily visits in which he spent a few hours with her checking in on the world. Sometimes I went with him, or one of the others, but she had been alone for the majority of the time. We had grown used to checking in with her at night too, talking to her before we settled for the night and she often popped up with a question or two during the day.

With so little to do for International Rescue in the way of actually rescuing people she had taken to it upon herself to work her way through every encyclopedia that had ever been uploaded to the internet, to familiarize herself with customs and cultures around the world and, weirdest of all, pop culture and slang words. That had made for some interesting conversations, especially when the younger two got involved.

“What are you all doing to relieve your boredom?” she asked.

“Reading,” I answered, lifting my magazine to show her.

“Reading,” John answered, displaying his book.

“Drawing,” Virgil answered.

Her lights flickered for a few seconds.

“Reading I understand, if one wishes to gain knowledge then reading is an acceptable way to do so. But drawing serves no purpose.”

“Uh oh,” John muttered, ducking into his hood.

“Serves no purpose?” Virgil gasped, shocked to his very core by her words. “Of course it does.”

“It has no function.”

“It does!”

“Can we not argue about this?” I asked.

“I’m not arguing,” Virgil insisted. “I’m educating, is that OK?.”

“Anything that will keep her occupied,” John shrugged. EOS had taken to playing with the comms and the fire alarms when she had nothing to do, so we needed more to amuse her.

Virgil reached for the drive but groaned, his back protesting. I got up and fetched it for him, handing it over. He settled back against his cushions and set the drive on his shoulder like a weird parrot.

“Art,” he began, “can’t be broken down into functions and reasoning, art is about feeling.” He sketched a few lines on his pad. “Humans are complicated creatures; they all have different likes and dislikes, things that they love and things that they hate. Art, above all else, makes us feel, even if it's a negative emotion.”

Virgil had a lovely voice to listen to, soft and warm, you just couldn’t help but pay attention to everything he said. I put my magazine down and snuggled closer to John, settling like it was story time.

“Art comes in many forms, music, literature, photography, sculpting, cooking, anything and everything that is creative is a form of art. For as long as there has been humans, there has been art, humans have an inherent need to create, to make things, to leave their mark on the world in some way or another. Look at you.”

“What about me?” EOS asked, having been listening silently, her lights flickering thoughtfully.

“You evolved from game code that John created, you yourself are a form of art. And you yourself create things every day.”

“How do I?” EOS had been learning to emulate tone and expressions, putting them into her voice whenever she thought it was appropriate, it could be pretty hit or miss, but this time she sounded genuinely puzzled.

“You form pictures, you create charts, you correlate data and display it. That’s a form of art.”

“But that art has a purpose, it's to display information.”

“And so does all art, it can be pretty, it can be ugly, you might not understand it, but it will still make you feel something. That’s it’s purpose.”

“I still don’t understand.”

“People like to see pretty things, they make them feel better when they feel bad. Pictures can remind them of good things, paintings of people they love make them smile, pictures of places they have been to bring back memories of good things.”

“Why do you draw when you could just take a photograph? Drawings and paintings are not accurate, they are filled with inaccuracies.”

“Because some things can’t be captured with a photograph, they may not exist anywhere but in your own mind.”

“I cannot picture something that I have no reference for. If it does not exist it cannot be pictured.”

“Of course it can, things can't be simplified to if they can be referenced or not, you can paint emotions, you can play feelings, you can bake love. If what you are making makes you feel, or when you look at something, hear something, taste something or smell something, it can trigger emotions within you.”

“I’m not sure I understand, because I cannot feel.”

“Of course you can, you feel love, friendship, loneliness, you feel a lot and you’re learning more every day,” John assured her.

“But they are not art, I cannot picture those things,” EOS argued.

“I’ll show you what I mean,” Virgil assured her.

Virgil turned to a fresh sheet of paper and picked up his pencil.

“It’s human nature to create faces and pictures of things that we cannot see but that we interact with,” Virgil continued, his pencil flying over the page. “How do you two picture EOS?”

“I see her as a small girl, not too young because they are annoying,” I started, ignoring John’s snort of amusement, I can’t help it if I’m not a kiddy person. “Maybe around ten, eleven years old, a tween that can swing between moody and loving in an instant.”

“Accurate,” John agreed.

“I picture her with hair down to her shoulders maybe, sometimes in pigtails if she’s in a bratty mood.”

“I’m never bratty,” EOS argued petulantly. 

"I beg to differ," John whispered to me. 

“I see her hair as maybe a strawberry blonde, maybe somewhere between John and Gordon’s hair colour,” I continued, getting into my stride. Having had no part of her creation and no understanding of how code or computers of any kind worked all I had been able to do was assign her a face so I knew who I was talking to. Virgil was right, us humans always had to put a face to a voice. If we heard someone on the radio we would get an impression of who the voice could belong to, what the person speaking would look like and I had done exactly that.

“I’ve never really thought about it before, but I think she’d have green eyes,” John added, his eyes closed as if he were picturing her in his mind. 

“With a cute little nose and a smattering of freckles just like Alan has,” I added.

“I sound quite pleasant,” EOS said thoughtfully. 

“What clothes would you choose?” Virgil asked, still sketching.

“Since I live in Thunderbird Five, if I had a body to clothe I would need a suit like John’s.”

“Makes sense,” Virgil agreed, frowning slightly as he concentrated on his work.

“I think I would like a hairband like Kayo has,” EOS mused. 

“Hairband, got it,” Virgil answered her, pencil moving back and forth in soft strokes a few more times. “OK, finished.” He turned his pad around for us to see.

“Oh, she’s adorable!” I squeaked. “She’s just how I pictured her.”

“She’s very cute,” John smiled. “Can I keep that?”

“Sure, I’ll colour it later for you.” Virgil turned the pad for EOS to see. “That’s you, EOS.”

“That’s me?”

“Well, it’s how we picture you. See, your body doesn’t exist, this face doesn’t exist, but it’s still in our heads. It’s how we see you and when we look at this, we feel happy and we feel love, because it’s you. Do you understand art now?”

“Yes,” her tone had changed from thoughtful to confident. “Yes I think I do.”


	84. Day 84

Day 84 of Isolation on Tracy Island and Virgil has had enough of sitting around and was demanding to get back to his baby. I insisted that he should still take it easy and that’s how I ended up being roped into cleaning the inside of Two with him. I was basically there for grunt work and to be ordered around while simultaneously ordering him to sit still and not strain himself. It wasn't going too well, not because he’s as much of a nightmare to work with as the others, no, I could work with him all day, it’s because he just won't stop trying to do EVERYTHING himself. 

I’d mopped the floor of the pod for him because on the last supply run something had spilled and apparently Gordon can not be trusted to actually clean things properly. I propped the mop against the wall and dragged aside the trolly we used for heavy goods and saw something on the floor under it.

“Virg? What’s this?” I bent down to grab the small package and handed it to him.

“I don’t know, it’s addressed to Gordon.”

“Huh, well, we can take it up with us when we're done here,” I shrugged, reaching for the mop again.

***

“Gordo, we found a package,” Virgil announced, tossing it his way. 

Gordon caught it, checked the label, then grinned excitedly.

“They came! Alan, they came!”

“What came? Oh!”

“Are we missing something?” Scott asked, moving around them to reach for the coffee pot. I swear he’s as bad as Virgil, I wouldn't be surprised if I came down one morning and found two coffee beans rolling around the couches instead of them.

“You’ll see,” Gordon grinned as he and Alan rushed off, taking the mysterious package with them.

We shrugged. We had no clue and honestly we gave up trying to figure those two out long ago.

We grabbed some lunch and settled in the lounge because Grandma had shooed us out of the kitchen, wanting to make a start on dinner. What dinner would need four hours I don’t know but with her it could be anything.

We were chilling quietly when voices started floating through the sound system. I frowned, they sounded vaguely familiar. Scott glanced at me, obviously recognising them from somewhere too.

“What the heck?”

A very familiar sounding beat started pounding through the room.

“Oh gods,” I groaned, covering my eyes and almost afraid to open them. I remembered the ‘Eye of the Tiger’ incident all too well. “Scott, save me.”

Flash! Ah-ah  
Savior of the universe

“Oh no,” Virgil moaned. 

Flash! Ah-ah  
He'll save every one of us

Gordon slid into the room, wrapped in a shiny red cape. Alan followed behind him, wearing a very good likeness to his Cavern Quest character’s wardrobe.

Flash! Ah-ah  
He's a miracle

“Gordon, what are you-”

Flash! Ah-ah  
King of the impossible

Gordon struck a pose and then got his strut on, the cape still wrapped around him. Alan was dancing weirdly behind him but, to be honest, I didn’t want to look too closely, I was only peeking through my fingers and that was enough.

He's for every one of us  
Stand for every one of us  
He saves with a mighty hand  
Every man, every woman  
Every child, it's the mighty Flash

“You’re not saving me,” I whispered to Scott.

“I can’t even save myself,” he whispered back.

“I have no idea what is going on,” Virgil said, shuffling over closer to us until we were all squashed on one couch, huddled together for protection from crazy brothers.

Flash! Ah-ah  
He'll save every one of us

Gordon was in full hero mode, as was Alan, the two of them doing some kind of synchronized battle sequence that I couldn’t look away from no matter how hard I tried.

Just a man with a man's courage  
You know he's nothing but a man  
And he can never fail  
No one but the pure at heart  
May find the Golden Grail  
Oh-oh, oh-oh

Their weird dance came to an end and Gordon struck a pose, head bowed, waiting…

Flash!

He threw his head back and tossed aside his cape, revealing a vintage Flash Gordon T-shirt and...I had to look closely, even though I didn’t want to.

“Are those gold hotpants?”

“Yep!” 

“Oh, God, Gordon…” Scott shuddered, burying his face against my shoulder. I wrapped my arms around him and stroked his head soothingly. 

“Deep breaths, babe, deep breaths," I encouraged, hugging Scott tighter. 

“What? Don’t you like my costume?” Gordon started a slow, jerky dance that turned into a very vigorous floss that he'd learnt from Jeff and then, no, he wasn't was he...yep.

“What’s going on in- GAHH! My eyes!” John screamed, backing out of the room as Gordon began to twerk in front of him.

John is threatening to go back to Five and stay there forever, Scott is still shuddering and jerking at any sudden movement, Virgil has been pretty much catotonic on the sofa since he still can't move quick enough to get away and I’m wondering if I’ll ever see sane people again.

Apparently Gordon and Alan had been planning to go to Comic Con but then the pandemic hit and they had to cancel and had already begun to put their costumes together. I questioned Gordon on what kind of costume he was actually aiming for, because no Flash Gordon I had ever seen had worn those pants. It turned out he had ordered the right ones, trousers, not shorts, but there had been a mistake in the order and Gordon, being Gordon, the one with absolutely no shame or sense of decency, had decided to run with it.

I mean, he's brave, I’ll give him that and he did have the legs for them...


	85. Day 85

Day 85 and the boys just found out that Jeff has been talking about them to his friends for the last 80+ days. They don't know what to do with this information. 

<https://www.dropbox.com/sh/gegfodqtyyy4n31/AADpbvkYLwH3QufIePByvi96a?dl=0>


	86. Day 86

Day 86 of Isolation on Tracy Island and I realised something today. I was looking through my phone, as you do, wondering why I had so many selfies of Gordon on there (I suspect that he’s been hacking into my phone again) and having a nice little reminisce about the last three months of being stuck with these guys. 

We’d had some strange days, some fun days, some outright weird days, some ‘I cant believe that just happened’ days, some ‘I don’t want to get out of bed today’ days, some ‘put me down I can’t feel my legs’ days and everything in between. We had laughed, we had screamed, we had argued and we had cried (OK I admit that was mostly me) but we’d done it together and I had a massive amount of pictures to prove it. 

My eyes kept flicking back to Virgil, over the last few days there had been something off about him but I just couldn't put my finger on it. I’d sniffed him earlier and he smelt the same, he was wearing another of his never ending supply of plaid shirts, he had the same white T-shirt, the same black boots. Nothing changed there. His hair was, well it wasn't the same as normal because it was longer than it had been and kept flopping into his eyes, plus he had the whole shaggy beard thing going on, but that wasn't it either.

It was during this pic flicking that I had my revelation, I glanced back up to check my theory.

“Why do you keep staring at me?” Virgil asked, not looking up from his drawing pad.

“Because you’re cute?”

“Hey! I’m supposed to be your cute one.”

“Of course you are, you’re the cutest, he's just cute too.”

“Better.”

“Don’t I get a say in this?” John asked mildly.

“No, Alan is the cutest.”

“Damn right I am.”

“Why were you staring at him? If anyone is worth staring at, it's me,” Gordon commented.

“Rubbish, we all know that I’m the good looking one,” Scott insisted, joining in the conversation. 

“You’re all perfect and you know it,” I soothed. “I was looking not staring, because I just realised something and had to check to make sure I was right.”

Virgil glanced down at himself, possibly just checking in case he’s sprouted a third arm or something.

“What did you realise?” he asked, sounding half afraid to hear the answer.

“That you’re clean.”

Everyone burst out laughing apart from Virgil.

“That came out wrong.”

“Yeah, I’d say it did,” Gordon wheezed, still laughing.

“I meant that...well...he can never not get dirty. It’s like muck is attracted to him.”

“Digging that hole a bit deeper, love,” John commented.

“Careful, the mud will fly at Virgil,” Alan laughed.

“Will you guys stop!” I lifted my head off Scott’s lap where I’d been lounging, John had my legs, if they want to share the couch while I’m stretching out they have to deal with being my couch, them’s the rules.

“I wasn’t complaining, I was simply observing. Look!” I showed my phone as proof. They all leant forward to squint at the screen. Sighing, John took the phone off my technophobic self and with two swift swipes and a stab of his finger the pictures were projected to the holoprojector.

John flicked through my pictures, there were group shots but also single pictures of all the boys, and in each and every one of them Virgil was dirty somewhere about his person.

In one, taken while the boys had been putting together the golf carts, he had grease in his beard where he had scratched at his chin and cheeks.

In another, where we had been decorating cupcakes, he had frosting smeared on his shirt and on his nose.

I’d taken a snap of him while he was painting and he was smattered with paint all over his shirt, trousers and even had little flecks in his hair.

In every single picture, be it cooking, cleaning, building, painting, lounging, sunbathing, drawing, even sleeping, he was always dirty somewhere. It seemed like if he was moving, he was grubby.

“This proves nothing,” Virgil huffed as the others pointed and laughed.

“It’s not a bad thing,” I assured him. “It was just strange to see you without your...Virgilness,” I finished. “I think it’s because you’ve not been moving around much because of your back, you’ve not been doing things so you haven’t gotten dirty.”

He glanced down at his shirt as if seeing it for the first time, it was spotlessly clean. 

All the others turned to stare at him too. 

"You're right, it's weird, it's like he's himself, but also, he's not," Gordon mused. 

"Like a clone that feels off," Alan agreed.

"I'm not off," Virgil huffed, clearly getting fed up with the insinuation that he was a pod person. "It's not that strange, I'm not dirty all the time, I can stay clean." 

"No you can't," Scott snorted.

"Yes I can." 

"You got dirty on your way to your prom and had to walk around all night with a grease stain on your shirt," Scott reminded him. 

"That wasn't my fault, there was a broken down cat on the side of the road and I stopped to help."

"You got dirty at graduation too, "John added. 

"That wasn't my fault, it had been raining and that car splashed through a puddle."

"You were filthy that time you went to the movies with Victoria Lane too," Gordon joined in. 

"But that wasn't…it's not like I do it on purpose. I have a messy job, I have messy hobbies, I'm always fixing things but if I wanted to stay clean, I could," Virgil insisted. 

"Admit it, you attract dirt, dirt will always find a way to get you," Scott grinned. 

"You're a dirt magnet, Virg," Gordon insisted. 

"Just stop! You make it sound like I'm a slob, and we all know that's Gordon, he treats Four like it's his own personal trash can. I can go days without getting dirty, you've just never noticed!" 

"Virg, we do notice-" 

"No, I'm done. I won't stay here to be abused and have more accusations thrown at me," he hauled himself up awkwardly off the couch and stomped his way out of the room. 

"Why are you all so evil? Now he's going to blame me for this," I growled, lightly smacking Scott because he wouldn't stop laughing. 

"Can't argue with the truth," Alan shrugged. 

Virgil had not been gone more than ten seconds before we heard it, a bang, then an 'oof', swiftly followed by the sound of his footsteps coming back into the room, Grandma on his heels.

"I'm sorry, you came out of nowhere!" 

Gordon and Alan were trying not to laugh, Scott already was, John was the only one managing to keep a straight face. 

"Don't say a word," Virgil commanded, trying to maintain some level of dignity as he stalked back in, a thick chocolate milkshake dripping down his chest.


	87. Day 87

Day 87 of Isolation on Tracy Island.

“I’m starving.”

“How nice for you,” Scott commented.

“You know where the kitchen is,” John added.

“Yeah, go make yourself a sandwich or something,” Virgil suggested.

“Make a sandwich?”

“Yes, a sandwich, you know, two slices of bread, filling in the middle, it’s hardly an alien concept,” Gordon laughed. “Make me one too while you’re at it.”

“Make it myself?”

“It’s not that hard, Allie. You need to learn to fend for yourself sometime,” Virgil told him patiently.

Alan went quiet then sneakily took out his phone.

“I swear, if you text her to get her to make you a sandwich, I’ll get EOS to wipe all your saved game data,” John warned him not looking up from whatever he was working on on his tablet, his uncanny ability to see everything still working on earth without Five. 

“Like I was going to do that,” Alan huffed, but he did slip his phone back into his pocket. “I can make my own food if I want to.”

“Sure you can,” Gordon’s tone said he’d be more inclined to believe that they had Nessie living in the cove.

“I can and I’ll prove it,” he declared, stomping down to the kitchen. 

I walked in about five minutes after this conversation and flopped down on the nearest couch, it didn't matter that Gordon was already there, I just sat on him.

“What’s going on? What did I miss?”

“Alan is apparently capable of making food for himself,” Scott told me. "He's proving it to us right now." 

“Seriously? You guys let him go into the kitchen by himself?”

“He’s old enough to make a sandwich,” John pointed out.

“It’s also Alan,” I argued. “I’m gonna keep an eye on him and make sure he doesnt hurt himself in there.”

“Don’t help him, I know you and so does he. You’ll watch for no more than two minutes before he does something stupid, likely on purpose because he knows that you’ll take over and do it for him,” Scott warned me.

“I’m not going to help, I’m going to supervise.”

They all gave me that look that said they didn't believe me. Honestly, I didn’t believe myself either.

“OK, I might help him but just a tiny bit.”

“No, I'm being serious, he needs to learn to fend for himself a little, he can’t rely on us forever,” Scott insisted. “Don’t help him. Keep an eye on him if that will make you feel better, but you have to sit on a stool and stay there.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Dude, did you just tell me what to do?”

“Run...away…” Virgil hissed under his breath.

Scott took his advice and took off, yelling something about hearing Grandma calling.

“Wimp,” I muttered.

Gordon sniggered.

“He’s right though, you need to let Alan do things for himself,” John said.

“You’re not stupid enough to give me an order, are you?” 

“No, I’m telling you the truth and asking you to be sensible.”

“Fine, I’ll try.”

“Want me to come with you?” he sighed. I nodded, I was going to need back up, I could feel it in my bones.

By the time we got to the kitchen Alan had already started and by this I mean he had dragged out a number of bowls and was standing in the pantry staring at the shelves.

He poked his head out as we entered and looked visibly relieved.

“She’s not helping you,” John told him. Alan slumped.

“We’re supervising to make sure you don’t kill yourself,” I told him, taking a seat at the table.

“I don’t need supervision, I’m perfectly capable of making pasta without help.”

“Of course you are, forget that we’re even here, we’ll just chill over here with a cup of coffee,” I assured him.

“I’ve got a recipe,” he informed us.

“That’s good,” John nodded, "recipes are there to help." 

“Cornflakes will work as breadcrumbs, right? They’re basically the same thing.”

“I-” 

John interrupted me with a gentle nudge of his elbow.

“Whatever you think, Allie.”

“I need gloves, cooking can get messy!” 

As we watched he dug around in the first aid kit we kept in the cupboard because…boys and a kitchen, and pulled out a pair of gloves. Examination gloves. Whatever.

“You gotta cook the pasta first, right?”

We stayed silent, John reading something on his tablet which I was pretending to look at too but really I was watching the baby drag a massive bag of pasta out of the pantry and proceed to pour it into a bowl. 

“Pasta cooks in water,” he reminded himself, turning on the tap and filling the bowl with water. He glanced from the stove to the microwave and back again.

“Please don’t let him put the bowl on the stove, please don’t let him put the-” I chanted under my breath, breathing a sigh of relief when he shoved the bowl in the microwave. Maybe he did have a little common sense, maybe they were right and he could do this by himself. Had I been enabling and babying him too much? Not that the others could talk considering I had to look after all of them just as much. 

“About eight minutes should do it,” he said confidently. “I know Virgil did that with that other pasta, you know, the one that looks like a...blob. A squiggly blob. This isn’t blob pasta but it should work the same.”

I glanced at John who shrugged. He had no idea what blob pasta was either. 

Alan stood and watched the bowl going round in the microwave for a few minutes with such concentration that I wondered if he’d hypnotised himself. I nudged John who looked over, but upon finding no blood on his brother, shrugged and looked away again. 

“Oh, I forgot the aluminium foil,” Alan located the tin foil in the fifth place he looked, the freezer for some bizarre reason I wasn't about to try and figure out, and ripped off a large square.

With some difficulty he constructed something that looked like a very thick, very lumpy tin foil bowl with a flappy lid.

He rummaged in the pantry again and emerged with a jar of sauce, red so I'm assuming something tomatoey, and glanced at the label. 

“No added sugar? Is this sauce broken? Everything needs sugar. I’d better add some, just to be on the safe side.”

“John,” I whispered, nudging him again.

“Just leave him, he’s fine.”

“Then you can deal with him when he’s bouncing around the house at 3 am on a sugar rush,” I sniffed. 

John looked as if he wanted to deal by leaving the planet…again.

I watched as Alan liberally sprinkled sugar in a thick layer on the bottom of the tin foil bed. 

“Needs cheese,” he decided and went to the fridge. Did he get the nice edam, the cheddar or the parmesan? No. He selected three packages of plastic, pre sliced burger cheese and some of Gordon’s squirty nightmare and brought it back to the counter. 

He unwrapped all three packs of cheese and began to layer the slices on top of the sugar in his homemade bowl. 

“More sugar I think, it looks like it really needs a sugar crust.”

He reached for the sugar again and noticed his cornflakes for the first time.

“My breadcrumbs!” 

He selected a spatula and proceed to lift up the entire cheesy, sugary mess and, holding that in one hand, opened the box (I say opened, but read ‘rips open the box with his teeth, spilling them everywhere as the sides give way’) and crumbles a thick layer onto the tin foil with his hand. Handful, crush in fist, dump onto foil, repeat.

Eventually he appeared satisfied with this and slid the sugar/cheese pile back on top of the cornflakes.

“Perfect. Now, sauce.” 

If I had thought he would do the sensible thing and mix the sauce into the pasta, I obviously didn’t know Alan, because being sensible when cooking is not in his genes. He opened the jar (with much difficulty and a very quiet swear word that he thought we didn’t hear) and dumped its entire contents into the bowl.

“Awesome, look at me, I’m cooking!” he beamed proudly at his food monster. 

“Yeah you are,” I agreed as cheerily as I could force out between gritted teeth.

“Deep breaths, love,” John whispered.

“You’ve said that before and it didn’t help then either,” I shot back.

He raised an eyebrow. “Yes it did, I can think of at least three times when that was very good advice.”

“Well I wasn’t thinking of those times, I was thinking of times that involved your brothers.”

“Oh, then no, but anything is worth trying.”

“Noted.”

The microwave dinged and Alan popped it open, grabbing the bowl.

“OWW!”

I was halfway out of my seat when John caught my arm and pulled me back down.

“Don’t make me sit on you,” he threatened. 

I sighed and sat back down again. 

Alan glared at the bowl like it had betrayed him, offended his ancestors and told him that the Cavern Quest servers were down.

He sighed heavily and poked at the pasta with a knife, a very sharp knife that I didn't believe he was mature enough to be holding.

"He knows how to use lasers to cut through metal, he can handle a knife," John reminded me. 

"Only because you guys are stupid enough to give them to him," I argued. 

"I’ve no idea if it’s cooked or not.”

Obviously deciding to risk it he picked up a large spoon which at least had draining holes and proceeded to ladle the pasta out in big, dripping spoonfuls (rather than using a colander like a sane person to drain the entire thing in one go) and dumped it one by one on top of the sauce.He didn't look like he was enjoying himself. 

He sighed again, poking at the cheese. “There’s like, not even a five percent chance that this is going to work, is there? No chance at all. Absolutely none.”

He looked so defeated that I just wanted to hug him.

“Be strong, you can do this, he has to learn on his own some time,” John patted my hand encouragingly. I laced my fingers with his and held on tight for dear life, needing his strength and support more than I had ever done in my life before.

“More cheese will help, cheese fixes everything.” He grabbed the can and squirted the entire thing, slowly but surely, with many disgusting noises, on top of the pasta. He then sprinkled more sugar on “for luck” and added another layer of cheese slices.

“They do garlic bread with pasta don’t they?” he asked himself. Obviously deciding that yes, they did, he found a bread roll in the cupboard and hollowed out the middle. 

Curious as to just what the heck he was trying to do, I peeked over John’s tablet, watching him like a hawk.

He scooped out four big spoonfuls of butter and dumped them in a small bowl, then squeezed out half a tube of garlic paste, mixed them together vigorously and then spooned the mess into the center of the roll.

At a loss as to what to do with his garlic bread bomb he popped it on top of his creation and stared at it for a moment or two.

“Oh! It needs to be toasted!”

He reached for the chef’s blow torch that lived beside the stove.

“Al-” I began but was silenced by John’s hand over my mouth.

“He has a rocket, he can handle a little fire.”

“Gahhh!” Alan waved his hand frantically, trying to put out the flame where he’d set fire to his glove. “Oww!” he yelled as said glove melted and welded itself to his palm.

I looked at John, both eyebrows raised communicating perfectly well, without words, the fact that I had told him so. 

John dropped his head into his hands, muttering about idiot brothers.

Undeterred Alan artfully charred (burnt) the top of the bread roll and then began wrapping up his tin foil parcel, squeezing it, compacting it down small, and then added more foil. 

“Can you put foil in the oven?” he asked us.

“Yes, you can,” John answered for me, knowing I wouldn't stick to just one bit of helpful information. “But you can never, ever, put metal in the microwave.”

“Ah, yeah, cool cool, I knew that, I was just testing you.”

“Sure you were,” John patted my knee again, reassuring me that everything was fine.

Alan picked up his aluminum foil wrapped parcel, holding it like a baby and looked around for the oven. Now, this is a big house, with a lot of people to cook for, so we have a lot of options here. 

Unfortunately he selected the wrong one.

“1000 watts, that’ll do it.” 

“No, Allie, that’s-” 

He slammed the door shut and pushed the button.

Ping! Ting! Little sparks of lightning erupted in what was actually another microwave, not an oven at all.

Another spark, this time erupting from the microwave itself, not inside it, firing off towards us. 

Alan ducked like someone had opened fire from outside, crouched on the floor, giggling nervously as the scary electrical box continued to conjure up random sounds and flickering lights.

Smoke was rising and, finally sensing that full disaster was imminent (good danger spotting skills there, babe, wouldn’t think that disasters were your job) John yanked me off the stool and pushed me under the table just as the microwave let out one last, long, loud, kitchen rumbling bang and went dark, smoke puffing out of it like a dejected steam train.

I picked myself up off the floor, using a hand on John’s head to steady myself and surveyed the destruction.

John did the same, staring at the bent door of the microwave in utter disbelief. 

I opened my mouth but he hushed me with a finger on my lips, his eyes closed, praying for strength. 

“No, don’t say a word.”

“Woah,” Alan coughed, flapping his hand at the offending smoke as he got to his feet, glancing at the remains of the thing that had turned out not to be an oven after all. “I think I’ll have to leave that alone for now. Any chance we can get Virg to pick up some take out?”

(Inspired by my kid reading out a snippet of a GQ interview with Robert Pattinson. How I adore that chaotic idiot)


	88. Day 88

Day 88 of isolation on Tracy Island and we're all 'supposed' to be doing chores...

<https://www.dropbox.com/s/qzt5pacuxu79r1r/PicsArt_06-16-02.11.03.jpg?dl=0>


	89. Day 89

Day 89 of Isolation on Tracy Island and we discovered something today. 

John was in desperate need of some peace and quiet after Alan’s cooking disaster, then his avoidance of dishwasher duty yesterday and had talked me into a walk around the island. The island, being a little on the large side, had plenty of places to explore and discover, personally I’d probably seen about twenty percent of it. Granted most of it was jungle and rock but I was assured that it still held a few surprises.

We had a leisurely brunch, managing to actually eat without the others stealing all our food for once and then headed off for our little wander.

We lapped the beach, just enjoying the peace and taking advantage of the chance to actually breathe and relax a little. 

John's comm beeped and we settled on the sand so he could check in with EOS. As he worked I indulged in a little sightseeing while sitting still, I'm a woman, I can multitask. I'm also lazy, very very lazy. I wasn't moving if I didn't have to. 

My eyes tracked over the greenery, mapping out the rocks that jutted out here and there, looking for nesting birds or anything of interest- what was that?

I nudged John and nodded towards the little domed structure, perched atop a set of spindly legs, set in amongst the trees. 

He glanced over to look at what had caught my interest then held up his finger indicating he'd be one minute. 

He finished talking to EOS and turned his comm off. 

"What the heck is that thing?" I demanded to know. 

"That's one of the beach huts Dad had commissioned as part of our cover. It was to make the island look more realistic as a resort that a rich widower and his playboy sons would own."

"Playboy sons, have they met any of you?" 

"Hey, we could be playboys if we wanted to. Lots of people find us wildly attractive, I'll have you know."

“They wouldn’t if they saw Gordon giving himself a pedicure on the couch,” I argued. 

“That’s very true,” he acknowledged, shuddering briefly like he'd just got an unsavoury mental image.

“So what do you do with these mysterious and previously unheard of beach huts?”

He shrugged. “I’ve no idea, to be honest I had forgotten they even existed. To my knowledge we’ve never used them.”

I clambered to my feet.

“Where are you going?”

“Where are we going,” I corrected him. “I’m curious now, I need to know what they’re like inside and more importantly, can I do anything with it. Imagine making it into a studio for Virg for his birthday or something. He’d love it and he’d get some peace.”

“That’s actually a pretty good idea,” John acknowledged standing in one flowing motion, showing far more effortless grace than I could ever hope to in a million years and brushed sand from his trousers.

We trekked our way through the bush until we stood looking up at the hut. It wasn't that big, maybe the size of a large bedroom, not tiny but definitely not in the realm of ever being used as guest quarters. There was a ladder leading up and John grabbed on, swinging himself up onto the first rung and was halfway up before I could blink.

“Are you coming?” he called down.

“You do know I’ll probably fall to my death, don’t you?”

I heard his sigh clearly as he climbed back down to join me on the ground.

“You go first, I won't let you fall.”

“Promise? You’re not planning on making it look like an accident?”

He snorted. “ I’ve put up with you for almost three months without a break, if I was planning on ridding myself of you now I could think of a number of ways that would be easier.”

“Good point,” I acknowledged. “OK but I warn you, I’m unfit and climbing is not my friend, neither is height.”

“Noted, now get going.”

I climbed up slowly and carefully, actually finding it easier than I expected it to be and soon enough we were hauling ourselves in through the huts doorway.

I don’t know what I expected to see, maybe just an empty space, dusty with sand and cobwebs, maybe some bird poop, but nope. 

It was spotlessly clean, what we could see of it anyway as most of the space was taken up by an array of strange bottles, pipes, heating pads and bubbling glass jars.

“What the heck is this?” I asked, utterly stunned by what looked like a crude laboratory hidden away in a hut on the side of the island.

“I think…” John paused and crossed over to one of the jars and sniffed at the escaping steam. “I think someone is brewing beer in here.”

“Beer? Why is someone taking the time to make beer when Scott alone has two crates hidden in One’s hangar?”

“I have no idea, maybe they got bored.”

“Who’s your money on?”

“You mean who is responsible for this?”

I nodded.

“Unfortunately, in my family it could be anyone,” he sighed.

“True this. So, what do we do?”

“We could just ask everyone, tell them we found it.”

“Or we could have a little fun…”

“Something like this would need daily checking...” he agreed, catching on to my train of thought.

***

We may have had to wait for three hours on a hard floor, but it was so worth it to see the look of utter shock on Gordon’s face when his head popped up in the doorway and he saw us sitting there.

Apparently he’s making it for when lockdown is over, to celebrate. I’m pretty sure that it’s gonna kill us all but what a way to go and at least he's being creative with his time.


	90. Day 90

Day 90 of Isolation on Tracy Island and these boys never cease to amaze me. It started out with a very random message going out on the group chat from Scott requesting that we all get dressing in black clothes. Yep, black clothes, on a sunny island...my mind boggled too, I mean, black's pretty standard for me but not for the rest of them. 

“Black? That’s not an issue for me, it’s basically all my wardrobe consists of, but do you even own anything black?” I asked John who was peering into his wardrobe like he was hoping it would reach out and swallow him whole. I feel like I've seen this happen a lot recently, John just staring into the void with a look of utter despair on his face because some family member had declared it to be weird clothes day. 

“Why do I feel like whatever this is it's something that I want to avoid at all costs?”

“Because it’s your brothers?”

“Accurate," he sighed, leaning against the wardrobe door as if needing strength. 

By the time I’d pulled on a pair of leggings, black socks and a black T-shirt that for once didn't have any logos or words on it as per requirement (I was both roasting and curious as to what they were planning) John still hadn’t found anything to wear.

“Nope, I’m sorry, but I just refuse to believe that you didn’t go through an emo or dark academia phase, I absolutely refuse. You have to have something hidden away back there."

He gave me that look that said he was wishing he was single, I see it more often that you would think but I know he doesn't mean it. With a defeated groan he dug into his wardrobe again, reaching right to the back and extracted a pair of tight black jeans and a black, long sleeved polo shirt.

“Don’t say a word,” he ordered as he struggled to pull the jeans on. 

“Were you skinnier when you bought those?” 

“Just a tad, I didn’t really eat much in college, I kept forgetting.”

“In college? You keep forgetting now. You only eat regularly because I feed you.”

He wiggled a little more and managed to get the jeans up over his hips and the zip up but the button failed him. He tugged on his polo and called himself done. 

“Ooohh, I’m liking this whole gloomy poet look you’ve got going on.”

“Don’t get used to it," he warned me, pushing his hair back from his face which honestly just enforced the image. All he needed was a black blazer or a trench coat and a Edgar Allan Poe book under his arm to be perfection. 

“Well you’re no fun.”

“So you frequently tell me. Now let’s go and get this over with and see what crazy plan they've thought up now.”

***

“You’re crazy,” John accused, backing away as quickly as he could.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Scott coaxed.

“Fun for you to watch my humiliation,” John shot back.

We looked like a goth convention, everyone dressed in a fine array of black, from workout gear to jeans and in Scott’s case, an all black flight suit. Virgil was looking almost as poet like as John, but his jeans actually fitted him and he was wearing a black long sleeved t-shirt.

We’d been kitted out with gloves, masks and made to tie our hair back, making ourselves as dark as possible and then we’d been sheppareded into one of the empty pods. And that was when Scott broke out the glow sticks.

Alan had helped construct a vague skeleton/stickman form out of the glow sticks and Virgil had glued them to our clothes one at a time. Looked like John would have an excuse to never wear his emo poet clothes again after all. I admit, I may have pouted a tiny bit at the thought of that, we could look so cool wandering through a winter woodland or something. There went my dreams of a fancy aesthetic for our facebook page. John narrowed his eyes at me like he could hear my mental musings and didn’t agree with them whatsoever. I quickly wiped my mind of such thoughts and attempted to project images of kittens and hamsters at him. On the off chance that he really had learned to read my mind, I wanted him to have ideas for possible birthday presents for me.

Once we were suitably adorned and we had been given our instructions Scott flicked off the lights. It was pitch black in there apart from the glow sticks, which were shining quite brightly. Gordon, it transpired, had been in charge of picking the music, which probably explains why there is now a video floating around the internet of us, as glow in the dark stick figures, dancing to Y.M.C.A.

And yes, that one with the round glow in the dark butt cheeks, that is Gordon. And no, it is not an experience we will ever repeat.

((Needing the smiles today, so the image of John as a moody poet is life right now))


	91. Day 91

Day 91 of Isolation on Tracy Island and I had a bad day today. We all know why we are in lockdown, we all know why we are socially distancing and why we are wearing masks and protective gear when we leave the Island, but for us, as it may be for plenty of other people, we have pretty much been in our own little bubble.

We’ve watched the news, we’ve kept up with current affairs, we always do because being in the rescue business you kinda have to know what’s going on in the world. But like many others we haven't really felt part of it for the past three months. We’ve actually had some great times, it’s been so nice to spend quality time together, just hanging out, having fun and making good memories to come out of the bad times. We’ve stayed cheerful for the most part, we’ve stayed happy and we’ve been OK.

So to say that Alan was shocked to walk into the lounge and see me crying while video calling is a bit of an understatement. He's a smart boy, that one and did the only thing he could think of, he backed out slowly and called for reinforcements.

Scott and John were summoned from parts unknown and dispatched to my location. They approached as one would a rabid dog, slowly, with soft voices and protecting their fingers.

I distantly registered them holding a whispered conversation, one that grew slightly more heated until Scott shoved John forward towards the couch and my damp, sniverling self. He sat down carefully beside me and for want of anything else to do to help and not wanting to interrupt my conversation, he wrapped an arm around my shoulders and stayed quiet while I finished talking to my equally devastated friend.

“She was so young,” I sniffled, still in utter shock. As with any community, us witches are a tight knit bunch and when we lose one of our own, it hits us all hard. It had been sudden, she’d been fine and posting on her social media just two days before, and less than 12 hours before she had posted a picture of herself in the ICU and then her husband was announcing that she’d gone. 

She had only just turned 40, she was healthy, she was strong, she was so full of life and energy, always campaigning for the little guy and speaking out against injustice. And then Covid had hit her and she couldn’t shake it off. She went from running around, riding the tube, speaking to her friends, walking her dogs and making her candles ready for summer solstice to feeling unwell, being quarantined in her kitchen and taken to hospital, all in the space of a day. Yet still she was fighting, she was posting to let her friends, family and clients know what was going on, she was talking, she was smiling and three hours later she was gone. How was that even possible? My brain just couldn't comprehend it. 

I clung to Scott's hand as I sobbed all over John because I didn't know how else to cope. The world felt quieter without her even though we hadn't spoken every day. An Essex Witch shaped hole had suddenly been ripped out of my life and it was hard to know what to do. 

I know these updates are supposed to be happy, cheerful things, I’m sharing our fun and laughter to bring some into your lives too, but today is a day that simply cannot be happy, I can’t force myself to smile. Because I lost a friend today, one that because of Covid and life in general, I hadn’t seen in far too long.

You hear the death toll rising but it’s not until it’s someone you know, someone you love and will miss brightening up your life that you really understand and appreciate just how serious it is. It’s a sad fact of life that it will never truly hit home until it's in your face and affecting your life.

Lockdowns across the world might be easing, but that does not mean that Covid is gone or that we’re safe. It’s not and we aren’t. I keep seeing people complaining about wearing masks, complaining about being too hot, too stuffy, too fed up without their cold pints in the pub and their shopping trips. And that’s making me angry, because no, lockdown isn't fun, it’s not nice to be away from family and friends, to not be able to hug them or visit properly, but I’d much rather have to wait a few more months to hug my family and friends than never hug them ever again.

She did everything right, she masked up, she cleaned her hands, she socially distanced but it clearly wasn't enough. 

If you don’t care about yourselves, that’s fine, but it’s not just you that will suffer but your loved ones when you aren't there. For some lockdown has been an extended holiday and yes, some of us have been making the most of it and coping as best we can, but we can’t forget why we’re doing it.

So I’m taking the day to be sad, and likely many days after that too, I’m surrounding myself with my boys, I’m accepting all the love they are throwing my way, the cocoa made by Gordon, the candy Alan unearthed from places I don’t even want to think about and all the hugs I can handle.

I’m sorry this isn't my usual type of update, but that can’t be helped, because you’re supposed to be sharing this journey with me and today I’m sad, today my heart is breaking because the world is cruel and people are idiots and I’m grumpy and tearful. So this is all you’re going to get. This is my tribute to her, by sharing her story hopefully people will learn from it.


	92. Day 92

Day 92 of Isolation on Tracy Island and I’ve cried myself out, I’ve moped about all day, reminisced with friends and know that being sad is not what my friend would want, she was a loud, obnoxious girl and she was always laughing, always smiling and that’s how she’d want us to be too.

So I pulled myself out of my hole (and out of bed) dragged my tired self into a shower and pulled on on the only T-shirt that would get me through this situation.

“Be More V?” Alan asked, staring at the bright green shirt my usually black loving self was proudly wearing.

“Yep,” I answered. 

“What does it mean?”

“What do you think it means?” I countered, just for the fun of it. 

“Be more...Valiant?”

“Nope, but good guess,” I ruffled his hair, just because he hates when I do that and stole one of his poptarts, heading for the lounge.

“Be more V?” Scott greeted me.

“Yep,” I answered, biting into the strawberry goodness.

“What does it mean?” he frowned.

“What do you think it means?” I flopped down next to him, smacking his hand away when he tried to break off a piece of my stolen breakfast.

“Be more Valuable?” he suggested, eyeing my food. Honestly, if you think an Alan pout is hard to resist, you haven’t seen a sad Scott. I weakened under the force of pout deepened dimples and broke the tart in half.

“Thanks,” he grinned, stuffing the whole piece in his mouth in one go. “So, did I get it right?”

“Nope,” I patted his knee and he lifted his arm so I could snuggle in for a cuddle, though he did steal another bite in payment.

“Hey, love that colour,” Virgil said, catching sight of my shirt. “But what does it mean?”

“Have a guess.”

“I was wrong,” Scott informed him. 

“So was I,” Alan added, following in after Virgil.

Virgil thought about it for a few moments then presented his offering. “Be more Virtuous?”

“No, and you guys don't have to laugh so hard at that suggestion, I could be virtuous if I wanted to.”

“No, you couldn’t,” John commented, appearing as if by magic in the doorway.

I stuck my tongue out at him but took the cup of coffee he had with him, shifting over to make room for him on the couch with us, draping my legs over his, getting comfy.

“Do you know what her shirt stands for?” Alan asked John.

“Be more Vociferous? Not that she needs any reminding of that,” he shrugged.

“I don’t know what that means but the way you said it tells me that it’s not complimentary,” I huffed. A quick glance at the others showed I wasn’t the only one that was looking confused.

“What are we talking about?” Gordon demanded to know, bouncing in with his usual high energy and lack of any kind of greeting.

“We’re trying to guess what her shirt stands for,” Scott told him.

He peered at the shirt for what was probably slightly longer than necessary then grinned. “Be more Vast?”

“Are you calling me fat?” I bristled. 

“No! If I was doing that I’d have said Voluptuous.”

“That’s literally no better! Why would I wear a shirt telling me to be fat?”

“Women are weird,” he shrugged.

“Aren’t you guys supposed to be nice to me today?” I pouted.

“There’s nice and then there’s liars,” Virgil laughed. 

“One is not amused,” Scott grinned, earning himself a slap.

“If you guys were wearing it it could stand for Vexatious, Vicious, Venomous or Villainous,” I threw back at them. “But definitely not Valorous.”

Gordon clutched his heart and stumbled as if my words had hurt him, but I knew he was faking it.  
Over the next hour they randomly threw out guesses but not one of them said the right answer. I thought about telling them but decided it was too much fun to keep them guessing. 

Let's be honest, they would all get into a snit fit if they found out that we're actively promoting one brother over the others. But today felt like the right day to Be more Virgil, because that boy knows how to be the best kind of person. 

He's kind, he's creative, he's smart, he's caring and just downright amazing, but I'm not going to risk the wrath of the others by telling them that. 

Be more V!


	93. Day 93

Day 93 of Isolation on Tracy Island and today we read a fact that Earnest Hemingway once won a bet by writing a story in six words. "For Sale: Baby shoes, never worn". 

Gordon Read it out and said to me "You're the writer of the family, I bet you can't write an isolation update for each of us in six words."

I cannot resist a dare or a bet… 

Bloody Gordon abused the ice-cream scoop. 

Virgil now knows what V means

Scott's hair caught in his zip

Alan's parrot level is at ten

John is researching divorcing your family 

Jeff is wishing he'd been snipped

Grandma managed to burn some water

Kayo is hiding for others safety

Brains hasn't been seen in days 

I'm wondering how this became life

I'm honestly surprised I actually managed to brain enough to write those. I stayed up late with John and Virgil as it was Summer Solstice. Scott tried but passed out on the couch at around 3am. You haven't lived until you've sat in a lounge surrounded by glass, giving you panoramic views over a beautiful beach, a sparkling sea and watched the sun slowly peek up over the horizon. 

May your summer be fruitful and your life blessed.


	94. Day 94

Day 94 of Isolation on Tracy Island. We ( OK I ) dragged Scott up to Five to be our first victim of a two on one interview for the Live from Five podcast that I wrestle John into doing every month. 

For over two hours I bombarded him with questions that fans had sent in, all of which were designed to get to know him better. Oh if only they knew the real him. He’s a bugger for acting like he’s so serious and commanding, but he literally spent two hours goading John and trying to eat his way through my entire sweet stash that I had hidden in the kitchen cupboard away from Alan. Stupid of me to not hide them away from Scott too.

We got back down just in time for father’s day dinner. Virgil and Gordon had been in charge of the cooking, Alan can’t be trusted and too many of us in the kitchen at once always leads to disaster.

They had managed to cook his favourite childhood meal of fried chicken, corn on the cob, coleslaw and something they call biscuits but that I call savoury scones. I refuse to make them because they are just weird to me.

He had requested family time with no arguments, no sniping at each other and no weirdness. Honestly he should have asked us to breathe on the moon without a helmet, it would have been easier. Poor man might only have five biological children but he's Dad to the entire household apart from Grandma.

If you have a problem, you go to Jeff. If you’re having a bad day he's always there with some wisdom, a tale of experience or a shoulder to cry on and a warm, squishy hug if words can’t help.

Each of the boys have a little bit of Jeff in them and I think that’s what makes them so amazing.

Scott has that drive, that determination and inner conviction that allows him to make up his mind and stick to it no matter what. Scott has that Tracy confidence that is needed in his role of first responder.

Our Virgil, he has the same kindness, the same empathy and burning need to do the right thing. He gives the same big bear hugs, has the same soothing tone, that same ability to get you to spill your guts to him and know that he’s never judging.

John has the love of space, the quiet intelligence, the logic and ability to separate himself from a situation in order to find the best way to solve it.

Gordon has Jeff’s cheeky sense of humour that is rarely seen but is always shimmering just below the surface, ready to come out in the form of a savage put down, an off the cuff quip or just the rudest joke you could ever imagine.

And Alan, that sweet darling, he's got so much of Jeff in him and he doesn't even know it. He's got the hugs, the caring, the bravery, the fast thinking, the innovativeness and the need to save the world.

People say that Jeff gave a gift to the world in the form of International Rescue because it gives hope, but no, I say that Jeff’s gift to the world is his amazing sons and that is all a father could ever want.

To be a good dad is something that many try to do but only the best achieve. So from the Tracy family to yours, to all you amazing dads out there. Thank you for being you.


	95. Day 95

Day 95 of Isolation on Tracy Island and I was inspired by Gordon to tidy the bedroom...okay, I’ll admit it, I was also bored. John had mysteriously vanished to parts unknown, though I suspect there was a space elevator involved, so I was working on my own.

John is a tidy soul by nature, I on the other hand, am not, so his things were in their allotted places whereas my belongings had apparently been blown up in some kind of rocket explosion and scattered themselves around the entire house.

I started by tidying up the bathroom and giving it a good clean and then moved on to the bedroom, which actually wasn't that bad, truth be told. It didn’t take long to gather up the clothes that had missed the laundry basket (mine) and pick up the scattered books (again, mine) the charging cables, notebooks and pens that were dotted around the Villa (still mine) and all the other little scattered things such as earrings, hair bands, brush, eyeliner and some crystals ( I don’t even need to say it, do I?) and put them all back where they belonged. 

“Huh…” I mused, looking around the room and then ducking my head into the bathroom. There were significantly less items here than I had started with. I knew John wasn’t to blame, because he always puts things back where they belonged, which only left the rest of the household. Believe me, It’s not just Gordon that ‘borrows’ everything from everyone, they will all deny it but I know the truth. 

So I went on a hunt, searching rooms and tracking down the following.

Scott: 

My berry burst moisturizing shower cream  
Three of my hairbands  
My ipod  
My good conditioner  
My shower cap ???  
My fluffy socks.

Alan:

The headphones that Gordon gave back  
My glitter eyeshadow  
Three candles  
A ball of yarn and one of my crochet hooks ( I’d been meaning to start a new project but had been busy)

Virgil: 

A pack of tarot cards (he was copying some of the designs for a new painting)  
A pretty glass bottle  
A big quartz crystal  
A wax seal stamp  
Five safety pins  
Seven pens (he never has pens around only pencils)  
Four magazines.

Gordon: 

My credit card  
Two of my wooden bead bracelets  
My incense burner  
A set of dice  
My squirt gun

As far as I can gather from the evidence shown, Scott was in need of a pampering session, Virgil was making weird art again, and the other two…I have literally no idea. The mind boggles. Just another Tuesday then…


	96. Day 96

Day 96 of Isolation on Tracy Island and I did something today that I never thought I would and I’m sure that I will be regretting it for months, OK, maybe years to come.

It all started when I entered the lounge, which is honestly an everyday occurrence, I walk in and those little sods start acting up, but this time it was John that caught my attention.

“What was that?” I demanded to know.

“What was what?” he asked innocently.

“That face you just pulled.”

“What face? This is my normal expression.”

“No it wasn’t! It was the same face you pull when Gordon tells a bad joke or when Alan convinced you to try Marmite on your bagel, that one that is a cross between disgust and what the hell was that. And I want to know why you directed it at me!”

“I did no such thing,” he sniffed, turning back to his book.

I whipped the book away, tossing it onto the coffee table. “Yes, you did. Now, explain.”

“I didn’t do anything, I looked at you the same way I always do, with love, great respect and a little bit of thankfulness."

I raised an eyebrow at that. Space man was lying through his teeth. Considering I’d just gotten dressed after a leisurely bath and actually bothered with makeup I didn’t think I looked too bad. Apparently I was wrong.

“She doesn’t look like she believes you, bro,” Scott grinned, stretching out full length on the couch, arms behind his head, clearly settling in to watch the show.

“Do I look offensive today? Do I smell? Did I snore all night? Give me a hint here, babe, ‘cause I’m getting a wee bit paranoid.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong and you certainly aren’t offensive-” John started.

“Not all of her anyway,” Scott added in his loudest side whisper.

“Not ALL of me? So part of me is?” I crossed my arms defensively, feeling a huff coming on.

“No, not a part of you,” John promised, but I know when he’s deflecting and that was a definite deflection, the same tone he uses on prank callers and people being dramatic while he waits for the local authorities to answer the call. 

I turned my glare on Scott. I’ll give him his due, he held out longer than I expected before he cracked, a whole ten seconds at least.

“He hates that top you’re wearing.”

“What?” I glanced down at my top, one of my favourites. It was a vintage number from somewhere in the 1980’s depicting cartoon characters of a band called Queen. It was baggy, saggy, ripped in places, fraying at the collar where I’d hacked it off and at the arm holes where I’d cut off the sleeves. It hung off one shoulder and sagged on the other and it was sooooo cool and comfy. It was just the best shirt ever.

“What's wrong with it?”

John made a face and crossed his legs protectively. I raised an eyebrow at that, don’t tempt me, dude.

“It’s just…” he paused as if trying to pick the least offensive way to describe it. 

“He thinks it’s ugly.”

“Scott, stop helping!” John groaned, dropping his head into his hands. 

“Oh!” I squawked, totally shocked and utterly appalled. “It is not ugly.”

“It is a little. It’s obnoxious, the cartoons are weird and it hurts my eyes to look at it,” John admitted. Scott burst out laughing, earning him a glare from both of us.

"Let me get this straight," I uncrossed my arms and dropped my hands to my hips, as sure sign I was getting annoyed. "You, the one who's favourite shirt makes you look like a rodeo clown. You who owns a dressing gown that looks like it mated with a 1970's couch, you who probably only keep it because you can actually see the damned thing from space, think my shirt is ugly? You are judging ugly?" I was utterly flabbergasted. 

There was a thump as Scott rolled off the couch but still didn't stop laughing. We both ignored him. 

"Yes, I'm judging ugly and those things on your chest are ugly."

I looked down at the twins in horror. 

"You know it didn't mean those!" 

Breathless wheezing was all Scott could manage as he gave up trying to haul himself back into the couch and just accepted his fate, laughing so hard that he was now incapable of making any sound at all. 

I nudged him with my foot but it did little good so I just stepped over his flailing legs and advanced on John. 

"This shirt is an album cover, it is a classic, it is an amazing album and I love it!"

"And I love my rodeo shirt…" he paused, realising what he had just said. "Not that it is a rodeo shirt," he backtracked hurriedly. 

"Who are you trying to convince here?" I asked. 

"Hey, what are you guys yelling about?" Gordon asked, coming into the room and skidding to a halt as he caught sight of one brother rolling around on the floor and another looking like he wished he was anywhere but there at that moment. His eyes slid to me and widened. 

"Gordon!" John seized on his brother's presence gratefully, obviously needing backup. "Can you please tell her that my shirt is not ugly, nor is that dressing gown you gave me for Christmas."

"And please tell him that this shirt is cool and in now way obnoxious or ugly, not like his couch print nightmare!"

Gordon's eyes darted between us and he backed up a few steps. 

"What's that Grandma?" he called over his shoulder. "You made fresh cookies? Sure, I'd love to try them!" he was gone before we could blink. 

Scott gasped for air, wiping the tears from his eyes as he attempted to pull himself together. 

I dived straight back into the fray, I'm a woman, we don't back down when we know we're right. 

"Your things are so hideous they deserve to be burnt to put them and us out of our misery!" 

"I'll burn my things when you burn that baggy sheet you call a shirt!"

I had a split second to make a decision, do I keep arguing, do I back down or do I make a sacrifice for the good of mankind (and my own eyes)? 

No way was I backing down. 

"Deal!" I yelled triumphantly. 

"Fine!" he yelled back. "But you have to pick one, if you're only burning one thing so am I." 

“Fine!” I agreed, nodding as if it were a done deal. “Burn that dressing gown, I can live with the clown shirt.”

“Fine! But now I’m going to wear that shirt every day and buy more to make sure I don’t smell!”

“Dude, how was that a threat?”

He paused. “I don’t know, but it was.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Go and get that ugly thing!”

“I will.”

“Oh, and can you be amazing and grab me another shirt since I will apparently be needing one?”

“Sure,” he stalked away, then paused at the door and turned back to look at me. “What shirt do you want?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know, just pick anything that takes your fancy, surprise me.”

He nodded and left again.

“Oh God, Oh I can’t breathe!” Scott gulped, taking deep breaths and letting them out slowly in an attempt to calm himself. “Even when you two are arguing you completely miss the point and end up being nice to each other and it’s hilarious.”

I nudged him with my foot again. “Get up, Chuckles, we need to build a fire.”

***

"What's going on?" Alan asked, wandering over. 

"John finally admitted that he hates her shirt," Kayo told him. 

"Does everyone know you hated it? Why am I always the last to know?" 

John shrugged, obviously not willing to risk speaking and annoying me further. 

“Are you two sure you want to do this?” Virgil asked, tossing another log onto the fire that he and Scott (when he finally pulled himself together enough to stand upright) had made in the firepit on the beach. Yes, we have a firepit, they are men, they like to make fire, it makes them feel all cave man and grrrr. Like speeding around the world in rockets wasn’t enough.

By the time we had emerged onto the beach, each gently carrying our precious sacrifices, the entire family had turned out to watch. Obviously lockdown had been so boring that anything was entertainment to them, even us doing a clothes barbecue. 

I rubbed the hem of my shirt between my finger and thumb, feeling the soft material. It had been washed so many times and almost worn to death that it was super soft, broken in, more comfortable than anything else I owned. It was comfort clothing. You know what I mean, like when you slip on your favourite pyjamas and cuddle up under a blanket and then suddenly the world doesn’t seem so bad? Yeah, that was this shirt to me. I could wear it with leggings and slouch around the house as I had done today, or I could team it up with a pair of tight jeans, a studded belt and a few accessories, tie it at the corner to make it a little more form fitting and I’d be acing the rock chick look. It was multi purpose! Not like that disgusting dressing gown that seemed to exist just to spite me. That thing served absolutely no purpose at all. 

I looked down at my shirt again. Could I really do this? Could I really destroy something I loved because he hated it? I glanced over at him, dressing gown rolled up and tucked under his arm. Yes, yes I could, if it would make him happy.

The offensive gown was just as hideous when you couldn’t see the shape of the thing. How was that even possible? OK, so maybe it did serve a little purpose, if only to annoy me. It’s kinda always been there, you know? I know when he’s having a bad day when he comes home and gets changed into that thing. Because it’s soft and silky and sometimes gravity is just a little too harsh after more than a week in space and all other clothes seem too heavy for him to deal with. I’m used to finding him in the kitchen at random times of the day making a sandwich while wearing it, or first thing in the morning when he’s hunched over a big mug of coffee, or when there’s an emergency call and that’s the first thing he grabs so he's dressed when he answers. Hell, I’ve grabbed it too, I’ve worn it when I’ve felt crampy and sick because it smells like him and that's comforting and I've lost count of the times that it was the closest thing to hand and I had the sudden urge for chocolate at 3am. And when I’ve come home and it’s not hanging up in the bedroom I know he’s home too and that’s just the best thing ever.

I stupidly risked a glance at his face and saw the utter devastation there. Nooo, why did I do that? Why did I look? 

No! Be strong! I could buy him another that was just as soft and comfy, maybe even more so, I’d buy an even better one. One that actually has a nice pattern, or better yet, no pattern at all, a nice midnight blue one that would look amazing on him. He’d love it in the end. And I’d make him buy me like twenty cool new shirts to make up for this one.

“How are they going to do this?” Alan asked as we stood side by side beside the flickering fire.

“John should go first because he started this by not being able to lie properly,” Scott decided after John and I stared at each other for a few seconds, completely baffled. What can I say, burning clothes is a new experience for me. I’ve only done it once and that time I’d actually planned it.

“Fine, I can go first,” he set his shoulders and balled up the offensive gown. “A deal is a deal.”

“Is he actually going to do it?” Alan whispered to Gordon. 

“If he doesn’t I’m going to tease him forever,” Kayo admitted, joining in the conversation.

I heard John take a deep breath and step forward. He inhaled slowly then threw the gown.

I don’t know why I did it, I don’t even think it was a conscious decision, my arm was moving before I even registered what was happening. I didn’t even know I could move that fast, usually I’d be hard pressed to outpace a sloth. But my hand shot out and I snatched the gown from certain death, dropping my own shirt in the process.

“Why did you do that?”

I looked down at the bundle of poop brown and gold ick that had magically appeared in my hands.

“I don’t know.”

“Then give it back.”

“No!” I tucked it away behind my back. “You love this ugly mess.”

“But you hate it.”

“So? What does that matter? This isn’t about me, it’s not mine.” I pushed it into his hands and snatched my shirt off the ground, balling it up ready to throw.

It was his turn to snatch. “What are you doing?”

“Duh, burning the offensive shirt, I made a promise,” I tried to tug it away from him but he held firm.

“You’d still burn it even though you won’t let me burn mine?”

“Sure.”

“But you love it.”

“Yeah, and you hate it,” I shrugged. Simple enough concept. No one wanted to walk into a room and be hit with the stink eye because they were wearing something that was apparently ugly.

“You’re not burning the shirt, it’s your favourite. We can’t like everything, that makes life boring.”

“So you’re agreeing to disagree?” Alan groaned. “This was the most ridiculous waste of time.”

Everyone nodded their agreement, Virgil and Scott looking sadly at their fire, now unused for the purposes for which it had been built, it would receive no sacrifice today.

WHUMMMP! Flames leapt up as something landed in the middle of the fire and quickly took hold.

“What the-?” 

A shirtless Gordon shrugged. “Well, someone had to do it.”

So yes, I may have made a big mistake because I’ll never be able to complain about the thing again now that I’ve saved its life. It's going to haunt me forever more.


	97. Day 97

Day 97 of Isolation on Tracy Island

Hey guys, Virgil here, I’m updating you all today because she’s given up and made John take her up to Five because she needs some peace from all the complaining. 

Having been occupied for the past few weeks she and Kayo had finally found the time to start their hula hooping lessons. They tried to be sensible about it, they got up early thinking that Alan and Gordon wouldn’t be awake but even that didn’t save them.

They had been alone for no more than fifteen minutes, just enough time for her to give Kayo some basic instructions and show her where to position her feet when Alan arrived, curious as to what they were up to.

Witchy insisted that if Alan was going to be there then he had to learn too, I think she was hoping that he would hate the idea and go away, no such luck.

She warned them that they would get some serious bruises around the midsection before the day was done but it didn’t put them off, apparently they were tough guys and could handle it just fine.

“Now, hold your hoops straight at waist height, so it's just resting against the small of your back.”

They copied perfectly. 

“Now, if you’re left handed put your left leg forward and push to the left, right handed, right hand forward and push to the right.”

“Push?” Alan asked.

“Yeah, push,” she spun the hoop to the right and with a few twitches of her hips the thing was spinning perfectly, it was quite mesmerising to watch actually. 

“You mean spin?” Alan confirmed.

“If I had meant spin, I’d have said spin,” she informed him huffily. “It’s called a push, it’s a technical hooping term.”

“There are hooping terms?” 

“Of course there are, there are terms for everything.”

“Sounds like an excuse to me,” Alan continued baiting her.

“Shut up or get out!” 

“Hey, I only just got here! I haven’t even said anything yet,” Gordon protested, slipping through the door and taking up position by me to watch, I had been given permission to stay because I am apparently the good one, the calm one, the one that everyone likes, that’s why everyone wants to be more like me and less like my brothers. I’m not sure that that is true but it’s flattering nonetheless, especially as I am now on a T-shirt.

“Just give it a go, push...or spin,” she gave Alan a pointed look, “in the same direction as your forward placed foot and thrust.”

“Thrust?” I asked, not sure I’d heard her properly.

“Yep,” she nodded. “Thrust.”

“It’s hooping, you twirl the hoop,” Gordon laughed. “It’s in the name, the hula, ” he did a very bad impression of a hula dance, complete with swishy wave arm motions. Now I know why John likes to pretend he’s not related to us.

“Come and try it then,” Kayo challenged.

“Sure, nothing to it,” Gordon grinned, striding over and taking a hoop from the corner and stepping into it. They all watched as he spun the hoop around his waist and with his arms stuck out straight above his head, proceeded to flail and wiggle like one of those inflatable tube men. As I'd predicted the hoop dropped like a stone to thump against the floor.

“Let me try again, I just need to get my rhythm.” He tried again but this time with hula arms. The hoop hit his arm, making him yelp in pain and once again it hit the floor with a bang.

“You gotta thrust, like this,” she dropped her hoop and did a move that looked vaguely obscene, a back and forth motion with her hips. 

“Yeah, I’m not doing that, I’m out,” Alan declared, dropping his hoop and retreating to sit beside me on the weights bench.

“I’ll give it a go,” Kayo shrugged. “I want to learn, you’re teaching me, so I’ll listen.”

“So will I, I can thrust,” Gordon assured us. No one commented on that.

For another ten minutes she attempted to teach them how to hoop but it was failing miserably, Kayo was too stiff, Gordon was too loose and the hoops apparently had a mind of their own.

In desperation she made me call for reinforcements.

Scott swaggered in with a wide grin on his face. He raised his arms like he was a superhero.

“I am here! Make way, I was born for this!”

John followed behind a little more sedately. “Do I want to know why we have been summoned with the words ‘she needs you to thrust’?”

“Hula hoops!” she grabbed two spares and handed them over. “I keep telling them you don’t hip swivel, you thrust.” She demonstrated again, both with the hoop and without. Scott didn’t look like he was paying that much attention but John was studying her carefully.

“OK, hoops up, pick a side, push to that side and then back and forth thrusting, got it?”

They all nodded. This time Kayo did a little better, Gordon was still waving around like a flag, Scott was a tad over enthusiastic with his thrusting and John took his time. They all dropped their hoops.

“Kay, just loosen up a little and try to swing through a little more, Gordo, just a bit less flailing, Scoot...just less...everything, slow down a little and not so vigorous, John, almost perfect, just a tad faster.”

She was actually a good teacher, she took the time to go over to them one at a time and with a hand on the small of their backs and one on their stomach, directed them in the movement and pace they needed. Nicer than she was when she was teaching me yoga, then she was just laughing. 

"Any excuse to touch me suggestively," Gordon teased. 

"You wish," John snorted, not looking remotely concerned as she moved on to making them thrust with her beside them with their hands on her hips to follow her movements.

This time she popped on some music, something I didn’t recognise but it had a good beat that she said would help them keep the rhythm. 

Kayo was definitely picking it up, Gordon was getting better but still kept speeding up and dropping it, Scott was still going a little mad and I was worried that we were going to have another back injury in the family very soon. Mine is feeling a lot better but I’d been told to sit this one out as the hoops are weighted to 2kg’s and can give your hips, waist and back a good pummeling apparently and she told me I wasn’t allowed to risk it.

John stopped his attempt and stood out of hoop whacking range to watch her as she moved, studying her from all angles, then nodded as if that had cracked it. John has always been the one to keep an eye on whenever there is any kind of challenge, which lets face it, in our family it’s a daily occurence. He’ll take his time, sit and watch, studying everything, calculate it in his mind and then when he does try he usually knocks it out of the park within two goes.

This time was no exception, he took up his position, spun the hoop and with a couple of perfectly timed hip thrusts, found his rhythm and just kept going, the hoop spinning around his waist like a top. He actually got a little cocky and crossed his arms seeming perfectly at ease already. 

“Yes, that’s perfect!" she cheered, blowing him a kiss. "Awesome, babe, you're doing so well."

“How are you doing that?” Scott asked, utterly bemused that his usual tactic of hard and fast wasn't working for him.

“I know how to follow instructions when I’m given them.”

“But you’re keeping it up,” Gordon stared in disbelief.

“That’s never been a problem for me,” John shrugged, not dropping the hoop, making it look effortless. “It’s just physics. The hoop isn't hitting your hips to go round, it’s bouncing off your back and stomach, that's what’s pushing and therefore spinning the hoop. It’s simple. Physics."

Witchy nodded. “Yep, you just thrust and keep your pace steady. It's a great workout. I can do this for hours.”

"John has an unfair advantage," Gordon accused. 

"How so?" I asked. 

"He's obviously used to interpreting her crazy orders," Scott joined in. 

"Not my fault that you can't control your own hips enough to get a smooth glide, it's not savage thrusting, it's a good pace and I'm man enough to listen when I'm told to go faster or slower, just do what the she tells you, it's not rocket science."

"Says the rocket scientist."

"Says the only person actually doing it right."

"Boys, why do I feel like this conversation has moved on from its original point?" she asked. 

"Because you know them?" Kayo answered with a shrug. 

I was very glad that I wasn't in the middle of that strange conversation and just watching (and recording) from the sidelines. At least no one was judging my performance or thrusting ability, not that I'd have had any problem doing as I was told, I'm the one that flies the big bird, slow and steady wins the race. 

They had been told they had to practice on ‘both sides’ which apparently means starting on the other foot and spinning in the other direction to work out both sides of their abdominal muscles, something they weren't too happy about. She kept them going for over an hour until all of them were complaining that their stomachs hurt and that their hips were bruised where they had been whacked with the hoop over and over, but Kayo had finally gotten the hang of it and had succeeded in keeping it spinning for a good few minutes. 

Scott had dropped the hoop on his foot and bashed it off his knee by trying to keep it up when it dropped and Gordon had smacked his into Kayo's hoop because he was struggling to stay in place and thrust. But in the end they all managed to keep it up, that was until they cheered, looked down at it and lost their rhythm and dropped it again. 

They were all groaning and clutching their middles by the end of the session and blaming her for being a sadistic teacher. I’m just sitting here, writing her update and feeling very grateful that I wasn’t allowed to join in as now it’s my turn to laugh at them hobbling around like old men. Revenge is sweet. Be more V!


	98. Day 98

Day 98 of Isolation on Tracy Island and no one is moving today, well, me, Virgil and Alan are fine physically but we are being lazy and hanging out on the couches with the rest of the ones that had attempted to hula hoop. The thing with hooping is that it takes weeks to toughen up your skin and muscles to cope with such a pounding as they will get from 2kilos of hoop slamming into them over and over at speed, I’d warned them, they hadn’t listened. Them of the rock hard abs had thought they had it covered, now they are regretting being so cocky and are laying around groaning every time they try to move.

We were laying there like sloths refusing to move (yes, John is wearing his rodeo shirt and I am wearing my hideous T-shirt and no, neither of us are complaining because we are adults) me because I had no real reason to need to move and I’d much rather lay there and veg than actually deal with moving and them because they were hurting.

They were all lying around in various poses of ouch, Scott was draped artfully in one of the bucket seats, looking relaxed but I knew the real reason was because the curved back was actually helping him get in and out of it, he had his tablet with him and was apparently catching up on some admin, but I know him and I know the look on his face and it definitely wasn't paperwork he was looking at. My money would be on him watching a movie with the subtitles on.

Alan was playing a hand held video game with Gordon, Virgil was tinkling on the piano working on a new composition which was actually a fascinating process to watch, he’d hum a little, plink out a few notes, hum again, play with a little variation and then write it down.

John was stretched out on the couch, his back resting against my chest because apparently I'm comfier and I was being nice by rubbing his abused stomach soothingly. I had stolen my ipod back from Scott and had my headphones on and was seriously vibing, totally chilled out and just loving life when the comm on Jeff’s desk beeped.

I allowed John to sit up from his prone position stretched across my lap and helped drag him to his feet when he couldn’t get his abdominals to obey his commands.

“Not so fun when it’s happening to you, is it,” Virgil laughed, earning himself a level 4 John glare, patent pending. But Space man was still lighter on his feet than the lumbering elephant Virgil had been doing an impression of and was soon easing gently into the desk chair.

“Yes EOS? Is everything alright?”

“Yes, I believe so,” she answered.

“Then is there something I can help with?”

“I think we have another one of those calls, but I’m not sure so I thought you should listen first.”

John rolled his eyes and Scott groaned.

“Put it through then, thanks, EOS.”

“Hello?” a young sounding voice spoke over the comms.

“This is International Rescue, how may we be of assistance today?” John asked, immediately slipping into his calm, capable work tone.

“Hello,” the sound of a muffled giggle could be heard somewhere in the background and John lifted his hand to cut the call. I jumped into action, slashing my hand at him in a ‘don’t you dare’ gesture. We were all bored, but I had an idea of how to make it better.

I sat down on the edge of the desk and made a continue motion with my hand.

“Can I have your name, caller?”

“Erm...name?”

“Yes, it’s standard procedure.”

“My...my name's Yuri,” another muffled giggle. “Yuri Nator.”

Alan and Gordon snorted with laugher, although Scott didn't look impressed and neither did John, Virgil just looked resigned to the fact that all teenagers were idiots. I could understand that one.

I gestured for him to let me take over and launched into my best impression of Janine from Ghostbusters.

“International Rescue, what do you want?”

This time even Scott sniggered. John, being John, lent back in his chair and let me work my magic, he’d seen this happen far too many times.

“So, Mr Nator, can you tell me a bit about your situation?” I continued.

“Well, I’m trapped.”

“Trapped, OK let me just pull up my forms for trapped citizens,” I paused for a few seconds then continued. “On a scale of one to ten how trapped would you say you are?”

“How trapped?”

“It’s not a hard question, how trapped are we talking? Have you just got a smashed ankle or have you lost your whole leg? Have you had to gnaw off any of your own limbs? Come on kid, time is money, you know we charge by the minute, right? This is going on your phone bill.”

“Trapped erm...maybe a five?”

“Five, alright, now where are you trapped on a scale of one to ten, one being you tripped over a hole in the sidewalk and a twig landed on you and ten being you are currently held hostage under the sea by three mermaids and a whale?”

Gordon buried his face in a pillow to stop his laughter carrying across the room.

“Maybe a three?” 

“Three, alright, trapped down a well, got it. Now, do you have any friends or relatives with you?”

“No, I’m alone,” frantic whispering was heard over the line.

“Totally alone, OK, I’ll add Billy no mates to your record, nearly done, just a few more questions before I pass you over to the relevant department head. Now, can you tell me if you are wearing pants or shorts today, please?”

“Erm...pants.”

“Has wet his pants, added to your case file. Now, Yuri Nator with the wet pants, can you please confirm your location?”

“I’m..not sure?”

“Tracing your calls to find your location I’ll add lost idiot to your file, transferring you now and thank you for using International Rescue as your rescuing service today.” I beckoned Gordon over and I swear I’ve never seen him move so fast, even with his sore tummy, although he had to take a deep breath before talking.

“Hey, this is the water rescue department, how may I help you today?”

“Erm...nothing, I’m fine. All good here.”

“My file says that you are a Yuri Nator and have wet your pants because you were scared when you fell down a well. Is that correct? Can I just ask you if Timmy is down there with you?”

“Timmy? I don’t think so, I don’t know anyone named Timmy.”

“No Timmy, check. Any Lassie’s? Because if there is a Lassie I’m afraid that is out of our jurisdiction and we’ll have to pass this case over to animal control.”

“No Lassie.” 

“No Lassie, good to hear, you’d really know you’re in trouble if they bring out the big dogs.”

“Dogs?”

“Yep, dogs. Now, the problem we’re going to have is that being in a well, it’s going to be a bit too snug to maneuver Thunderbird Four down there, so we’re going to have to come up with an alternative plan. I’m going to pass you over to our logistics department to follow up on your case. Have a great day, don’t let the well piranhas bite you too hard, that will invalidate your rescuers insurance. Thanks for using us as your rescuers today.”

Gordon handed the call over to Scott, who took it on his comm, not wanting to move from his comfy spot. 

“Logistics department,” Scott barked out in his toughest commander voice, the one that every one of his younger brothers knew meant big trouble. “I’m going to ask you some questions, you just have to say yes or no, got it?”

There was silence on the other end of the call.

“I asked you a question, do you understand me?”

There was a rattling sound as the phone was passed around a few times and then went dead.

John hit a button and called the number back.

“Hello?” a different voice answered.

“We know where you are, we know where you live, we know where this phone is registered, we are sending help to your location. We were told that you are trapped and as animal control is not involved we will be continuing our attempt to rescue you,” John informed him, just managing to hold in a laugh until Scott took over again. 

"Logistics, do you have a basic education? Yes or no?" 

"Yes?" 

"You don't sound so sure of that. Do you have any plans to attend college?" 

"Maybe?" 

"Useless layabout, got it. Have you ever thrown up on a ride?" 

"N-no…" 

"The truth, now!" 

"Yes." 

"Adding will blow chunks to your case file. Have you tried to get yourself out of your situation?" 

"No." 

"Not very resourceful, got it. Now, how did you get into your current situation, did you trip, fall while looking or were you pushed?" 

"I...tri- no I fell in." 

"Adding clumsy idiot to your file, passing you over to the next department."

Virgil grinned as he took over. 

“This is the International Rescue land rescue department, I'm the ground control operator,” he told them as Alan came and sat down beside him on the piano stool.

“We’ve been told that you are trapped down a well and that a water rescue is not possible so we need to determine if we can attempt a land rescue,” he continued in his most pleasant voice.

“Land rescue?”

“But the problem with a land rescue is that we’d have to drill down under the foundations of the well and try to break through its outer core, there is a number of risks involved in this, including drowning, crushing, cave in, impaling with a large drill and suffocation as the air is sucked out. Can we just ask which would be your preferred risk to take?”

“Risk?” the voice on the phone sounded even younger and now completely terrified.

“There’s always risks involved, kid. Do I take it that none of these options appeal to you?”

“N-no they don’t.”

“Then I have no choice but to pass you on to our space department. Have a nice rescue.”

“Space department here, how may I rescue you today?” Alan joined in, already enjoying himself.

“Space rescue? I’m not in space.”

“No, but you will be! Isn’t that cool?”

“I’ll be in space?”

“Yeah, the plan is to lower a rope down to you from Thunderbird Three. Then you’ll tie it around your waist, make sure you tie that sucker good and tight, we don’t want you coming undone half way up now, do we?”

“No?”

“That is correct. Also, remember not to hold your breath when you leave earth's atmosphere or your lungs will explode. Got it?”

“What? Explode?” the caller’s voice had taken on a fearfully high pitch. 

“Uh oh, I can now confirm that we have added a code brown to the wet pants situation, Thunderbird Two. Caller, are you still there? We’ll be there to pick you up in an hour, be ready to see some stars!”

“No! I’m sorry, we lied, no one is in trouble, we’re sorry, we’re so sorry. Please don’t tell our moms or charge us for the call. We won’t do it again.”

“Tell your friends!” Alan chirped as John hung up the call.

We were silent for a second or two before we all burst out laughing, which led to many painful groans as sore stomachs protested. But it had certainly cheered us up.


	99. Day 99

Day 99 of Isolation on Tracy Island and I spent the day with Gordon. I know, shocked me too!

I was trying to get some work done, trying being the operative word here, because I really wasn't trying that hard. I was doing some online readings for people, shuffling my cards and laying them out on the kitchen table, because I’m a professional and that means I have to be all mystical, all the time. I say this while wearing a wardrobe of mostly stolen clothes, John’s T-shirt, Scott’s hoodie and my jeans, very witch chic. We might be a tropical island but I was actually feeling chilly today, that or I was just really tired. 

Gordon walked in while I was lying with my head on the table, too brain dead to move.

“S’up?”

“My brain isn’t working,” I whined. “I keep getting the same cards coming out and I can’t think straight to do this today.”

“You need a break, a day off.”

“All we’ve had for the last three months is days off, I need to work, I need to do something other than feed you guys into your daily food coma.”

“Hey, don’t be dissing the food coma, we happen to like that.”

“You won’t even be able to get into your uniforms if it continues much longer.”

“Harsh! You got me right here!” he gestured to his chest and mimed being struck and stumbling.

“Harsh but true,” I countered.

“I can fit into my uniform just fine, I haven’t put on a pound.”

“No, you’ve probably put on twenty.”

“Liar!”

I sniggered evilly and blew him a kiss. One thing I love about Gordo is that he never takes offence to anything.

“OK, I’ll prove that I can still fit into my uniform, Four needs a test run after Brains added those new filters so you can come with me.”

I debated this for a second or two, I should be working but it might be nice to actually get off the island for a few hours and do something different. Four is actually my favorite craft (just don’t remind John of that fact, he still hasn’t forgiven me for admitting it last time) and having a chance to pootle around under the water for an hour or two was something we didn’t usually have time for, always needing to be near by incase a rescue call came in, so this was a bit of a treat. 

“OK, I’ll come but I’m not wearing a wetsuit too and I’m not getting my feet wet, deal?”

“Sure,” he shrugged. “Bring lunch, I’ll meet you down there in ten.”

“Little bugger,” I huffed as he vanished, “I swear he only asked me to come along so I’d feed him. He’s definitely going to have put on a few pounds.”

I quickly tidied up my things, popping them in their box, which I left on the table. We have rules in this house, there are certain things that no one will touch, you don’t touch Virgil’s art supplies, no matter where he leaves them or how scattered, you leave them alone. He knows exactly where they are and can tell if you move them even an inch. You never touch Scott’s tablet, he keeps his life and his secrets on that thing, no matter how tempted you are DON’T DO IT, he will know. Never touch Alan’s games console, he’s so protective of it. Don’t you dare move Gordon’s flip flops either, he has pairs scattered all around the villa and he knows where each pair are and will go crazy if they aren’t where he left them. And John, well, don’t touch his anything, it’s safer. I can usually get away with it, but his brothers can’t, years of living with them has taught him that you can’t have nice things when you have siblings, but most sacred of all is his phone. That is a total no go. Mine are my tools, there are certain ones that are safe for people to browse through, I actually like having their energy on some of them, my personal ones, but the ones that I use for work are strictly hands off.

I threw together some sandwiches, grabbed a few pieces of fruit, a couple of bags of chips and some water and called it done, he wasn’t getting anything fancy.

I took the long way down to the hangars, I’m not a fan of those launch shoots and yes, I’ve tried them all, they dared me to, drunk dares are awful. Virgil’s is by far the worst, upside down, backwards and fast, so much NOPE. Scott’s is speedy but as long as you stay in one spot and hold on you’re OK. Alan’s is by far the most chill way to travel, you just sit there and wait for uniform parts to start firing at you. Gordon’s is pretty chill too, but being flipped backwards into Four is NOT fun. What is it with these boys and going backwards? John’s is scary when you actually think about what you’re doing, it’s a small metal can on a thin wire and it’s yanking you out of earth’s orbit, it took me a long time to get used to that one and not cling to him reminding him that I love him and didn’t want to die. Now it’s like popping to the shops, you just sit there and try not to think about it too much.

This time I took the lift, yep, the one that Grandma didn’t tell Parker about and made him use Scott’s launch chute that one time. Scott wasn’t impressed, he said there was a distinct smell of ale and pork scratchings in there for over a week.

Gordon was already waiting in Four and this time I was allowed to climb in through the back, it wasn’t graceful, it wasn’t fast or even remotely elegant but I was in!

It’s still slightly unbelievable to me that these guys just jump into an amazing craft and zoom off to wherever as casually as most people would walk to the kitchen, for me any time I’m in one I’m in total awe. Yep, even when it’s this one.

I looked around, noticing that Gordon had made a slight effort to tidy up before inviting me to his private domain and by that I mean he’d brought a trash bag with him and picked up all his celery crunch bar wrappers, picked up his abandoned water bottles and I think… yep, he’d polished the console, probably with his sleeve knowing him and hung up an air freshener. At least he tried.

You know, people I meet always have preconceptions of the boys, especially Gordon, they think he’s nothing but a joker that can’t be serious to save his life, but that’s far from the truth. If you want to spend some quality quiet time with the noisiest Tracy, just dunk him under water. It’s like he finds an inner peace down there.

We spent a pleasant few hours floating around in the beautiful waters around the island, checking in on the areas where Gordon had been doing some conservation work and had a fun ten minutes trying to name every fish we saw, I don’t mean the actual type, but with names like Funky Fin, Bug Eyed Bill, Cherry Pie and Scruffy Muffin. Lunch was chilled and he didn’t eat all my chips so that was a bonus and I was feeling a lot more relaxed and ready to work by the time we headed back. He’s a good boy really, that one.

We walked into the kitchen and that was when he dropped his bombshell.

“Guys, we’re back, I hope I kept her distracted long enough!”

“Distracted? What the heck?”

I take it back, he’s not a good boy, he's a monster.


	100. Day 100

Day 100 of Isolation on Tracy Island and I'm writing this as a continuation from yesterday because I didn't have time to finish it then. And yes, before you ask, I am talking to Gordon again, because it was actually quite sweet in the end. 

You know what it's been like during lockdown, everything has kinda blended into one longass day? I’ve lost track of dates, lost track of days in general, all they are is a number now, I know this is day 100 but I couldn’t tell you the month. Apparently it’s June, who knew?

We walked in after our little submarine jaunt and Gordon made his announcement. Scott popped his head around the door, looked panicked for a second and then vanished. Two seconds later John was forcibly shoved through the door into the kitchen with us. He stumbled and flailed for a second then pulled himself together.

“Hey, you’re back, I missed you!” he pulled me into a hug but I was wise to his moves and noticed the gesture he made behind my back allowing Virgil to sneak out from behind the breakfast bar and make a run for it.

“OK what’s going on?”

“Nothing!”

“Really?” I pulled back to hit him with a warning glare, just a little one to let him know I wasn’t appreciating the fibs. “Gordon said he was distracting me.”

“Well, Gordon is an idiot,” John shrugged, “I wouldn’t pay too much attention to anything he says.”

“Hey, unfair!”

“Accurate,” I agreed. “But unfair. Now spill it, Spaceman.”

“OK, fine,” he conceded, holding out a hand, “come on, follow me. You too, Gordo.”

He led the way up to the lounge where there was a hive of activity going on. You know in those old cartoons where everyone is dashing around and someone walks in and they all stop like they have been freeze framed, mid activity, just staring at you like you’re a three headed alien dancing with maracas. Which I wasn’t, I can assure you.

“Gahh, she’s here!” Alan yelped and they all came back to life.

“Happy birthday!” they choroused.

“You what now? Who’s birthday is it? Oh my gods, did I forget someone's birthday? Wait, is it August already? I’m so sorry, Virg! I suck! I’ll make it up to you.”

“It’s June,” John reminded me. 

“It is? Who’s birthday is in June?” I flipped frantically through my mental rolodex of family rubbish and came up empty.

“Love, it’s your birthday.”

I snorted. “I think I’d know if it was-” he showed me the date on his phone, “-my birthday,” I finished. Dang. “I can’t believe I forgot my own birthday.”

"Well, you have been a bit distracted lately," Jeff laughed. 

“We’ve all chipped in to help,” Scott told me, handing me a glass of something blue with an umbrella in it. “Better sip that carefully at first, MAX made it, Brains has been teaching him to mix drinks and he’s insisting on being our bartender today.”

“We have presents,” Alan grinned.

“And I made a cake!” Grandma smiled, gesturing to the coffee table.

“Oh...oh you guys are amazing,” I sniffed, feeling tears brewing.

“Quick, John, waterworks at 3 o’clock,” Virgil laughed as I was dragged into another hug.

“Nope, crying is not allowed,” John insisted, petting my hair.

“I can if I want to, because apparently it’s my birthday,” I mumbled against his shoulder.

The tears didn’t actually last that long, just long enough for me to mark my territory by getting foundation and mascara smears on his shirt. I’m a woman, it’s what we do.

Everyone gave me hugs and someone put on some music to 'really get the party going' although it was something call Gangnam Style so I think it was Grandma, she was doing a very weird dance to it too. 

My mum called during the cake, which gave me a perfect excuse not to eat any of it (thanks Mum) and I promised that I’d visit them the next day.

The drinks that MAX mixed were...interesting, mostly palatable, very strong and they led to some very sloppy karaoke numbers that Scott and I started but the others helped to finish. 

Someone had managed to get off the island and pick up take out and yes, Alan had been right, there were presents. 

It turned out that Virgil had been borrowing my things to work on a witchy tarot card themed painting for the wall of my office, Alan got me a years membership to Cavern Quest (I think that’s more for his benefit than mine) Gordon got me a Thunderbird Four bath toy, Scott bought himself a new hoodie so I could keep his (Yay, but it's bold of him to think I won’t steal that one too) and John unfortunately didn’t get me the kitten or the hamster that I wanted but he did get me a cute little moon necklace and a promise of another present later, so I’ll forgive him.

I’m writing this a little worse for wear and all alone apart from Alan, Jeff, Grandma and Kayo. 

We were all slumped around the breakfast table, sipping coffee like it was our life’s blood and trying to force some toast down into our rebelling stomachs, my head was pounding and Gordon was SOOO LOUD.

BEEP BEEP BEEP

“Urghhh,” I groaned, “turn that off. Whatever it is, it’s bad for me right now, " I tried to burrow my aching head under Alan's arm but it did nothing. 

“It’s the emergency line,” John answered, sitting up straighter.

“Emergency line?” Scott shot upright too.

“Is this it? Do we have one?” Virgil asked, starting to smile. 

John nodded. “Yep. Guys, you’re going to the Bahamas.”

Everyone scrambled, looking so dang happy to be moving again, to have a purpose again, taking off at a run for the lounge and their launch chutes and John to five to coordinate. 

It looks like the world really is starting up again even though it is hard to think about. We’re used to being a bit isolated here and cut off from the rest of the world, but this has been a long lockdown and no doubt about it, it’s not completely over, not by a long shot.

We still have to social distance, we still have to wait for a call from the local authorities giving us permission to enter their country rather than just going wherever we are needed, but it’s progress.

This will be my last regular update for a while, it’s been an interesting three months and I’ve thoroughly enjoyed sharing our daily lives with you all in more depth, but now we need a little time to ourselves.

But don’t worry, I’ll still share the best stories with you all, I’ll still tell you all when something ridiculous happens, because let’s face it, it’s us, it’s a foregone conclusion that things will never be quiet here for long. 

So, until I have something else to share, here’s a big thank you for spending time with us every day, for reading about our crazy lives and for laughing along with us (and crying with me too). Remember to stay safe, don’t take stupid risks, look after yoursleves and those you hold dear. 

International Rescue are never far away, if you need them, just call, any frequency will do, they’ll hear you. 

Bye for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for doing this journey with me, I'm sorry to be ducking out but I've got a huge amount to do over the next few weeks/month. Thanks for all your support, for reading along and commenting, it's been great. This isn't the end of this completely, I didn't expect people to enjoy them so much so I will be posting the odd little Tracy Island story as and when inspiration strikes me (which is generally quite often, I just need to not have such a set timetable). So thanks again guys.


	101. Update One

Isolation on Tracy Island Update!

Hey guys, I thought it was about time that I caught you up on what has been going on with us since we last spoke. How you all doing? Still staying safe and being kind? You had better be or John will know, and he’ll tell me, and then I’ll send Scott, so yeah, consider yourself warned.

I’ve had a few questions sent to me since last update. One of them was who won the beard growing contest and is it still ongoing? I’m happy to say that it is not. They are all shaved and looking dashingly handsome again. They kept them up until their second call out when Gordon realised his breathing apparatus wouldnt seal properly with his chin all fuzzy like a coconut and he had to resort to the electric razor he keeps in Four. Yes, you heard that right, he keeps one in Four, he can spend days in that little tub and needs to stay smart.

As soon as he explained the situation and had to call it quits the rest of them did too, all wanting to get rid of the itchy nightmare that was their faces. All of them, that is, except Virgil. He kept his for another two days until someone forced his hand. I promised I wouldn't tell you what happened but you know what, we’re all friends here and he’s not around to see it, just don't tell him I told you. 

He was waiting for Grandma and I outside the hypermarket while we did our weekly top up shop. We came out and he’d gone. We found him inside in the male grooming aisle loading up on shaving foam, razor blades and shave balm.

“What are you doing?” I gasped, he’d been loving the beard life.

“It’s gotta go,” he muttered, heading to the checkout. 

“Why?” Grandma asked.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he grumbled.

We weren’t prepared to be brushed off in such a manner and bugged him the entire way home until he finally broke down and told us, but not before swearing us to secrecy...ooops. Sorry , V.

Apparently he’d be waiting outside for us, sitting on a bench in the sun, drinking his coffee when something dropped into his cup. On closer inspection it turned out to be some loose change. Someone had walked past, taken a look at the scruff on the bench, his hair a long, shaggy mess, his lumberjack beard and filthy plaid shirt and given him some money for a hot meal. That was too much for his pride and he’d caved.

In answer to the question of who grew the most beard (I won't say the best because John caved and trimmed his into something reasonably smart and Scott’s had stopped growing once it covered everything and refused to get any longer), the winner was Gordon. We’re all very glad that he shaved it off though, because he was looking dogier by the day. He looked how you’d expect that kid that humps the fence in Torchy to look when he grew up, lets just say you wouldn’t want him hanging around outside your house.

They still have their luscious long man locks, Alan has a stolen stash of my hairbands because his man-bun is now bigger than ever and he’s getting quite good at tying it up so it looks semi neat, couple that with the small pile of stolen bands that Scott has by his bed and you’ll know why I’m generally running around looking like Cousin It’s sister. A band, a band, our Island for a band.

Things are still pretty quiet around here, the emergency calls are still few and far between with little pockets of infections springing up all over the world again, so we’re still being required to obtain permission before entering certain countries and airspaces, so we’re once again playing the waiting game. 

Jeff, now that his friendship with Colonel White and Commander Shore is public knowledge, has been keeping us up to date with how their integration back into society has been going. 

Apparently the Spectrum organisation received a sudden and disturbingly large number of calls reporting suspicious Mysteron activity on my side of the pond. Fearing that earth's enemy was once again mobilising they sent officers to as many calls as possible. It turned out that none of them were Mysterons, it was just that it was Saturday and the pubs had opened again in England and everyone was drunk and stumbling by ten in the morning. 

In the week or so since I last updated we’ve had quite a few boring days to fill and we did this by watching more movies than we could count, Gordon and John finally talked me into trying scuba diving and Grandma and I have been trying to teach the boys to crochet. 

Virgil made some abstract thing that he is insisting is a pot holder, Gordon tried to make a tea cosy for Penelope's tea pot, Scott tried for five minutes before getting annoyed with it and giving up, Alan I had to teach to finger knit just so he felt like he was doing something and John was actually surprisingly good at it. We're going to end up with blankets draped over every surface even though we live on a tropical Island. Guess I'll just take the home with me at some point, it gets chilly in England. 

I dragged John to my mum's for food, literally dragged, I had one arm and Virgil had the other, though Vrig refused to park Two anywhere near her house fearing that he'd come back to find his big green baby had acquired rude artwork like One did. He was just going so he could see Mum's dog again anyway. Yes, the food was awful, this time she made some vague attempt at a casserole but she wasn't tipsy this time so we're calling it a win. 

That's all for now, we'll see you soon. Stay safe and behave.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Intermission](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28594302) by [TheRebelFlower](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRebelFlower/pseuds/TheRebelFlower)




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